


Across the Narrow Sea

by Narcissa1996



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Essos, F/M, Red Wedding, Smut, War, War of the Five Kings, Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-11-12 09:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 93,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18008687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narcissa1996/pseuds/Narcissa1996
Summary: Narcissa leaves Essos for the first time and travels across the Narrow Sea, to Westeros in a quest to find her father's sword. She finds herself at The Twins when Robb Stark is forced to marry one of Walder Frey's daughters to cross the bridge. Surely, she wouldn't be picked out when there were so many others to choose from?Robb Stark/OC. Quick marriage, slow burn love. It's Game of Thrones after all. Smut.





	1. Prologue

Before the events of Season 1

“My lady, what troubles you?” Gloria asks worriedly as she enters her lady’s chambers in the morning and sees her pacing around nervously still in her bathrobe. 

Narcissa wants to answer her, after all, Gloria’s always given her the best advice each time she asked for it. And yet, she does not want to put her in a difficult position and choose sides. Her movements slow with hesitation, Narcissa finally raises her eyes to look at her handmaiden. “If I told you something of great importance, you’d be bound to share it with my father, wouldn’t you?”

Gloria appears weary for a few seconds, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before choosing not to speak at all and simply nodding. A sad smile creeps on her lady’s face before she speaks. “As you should, Gloria. Please pack my belongings, I have a feeling I will be gone quite some time.”

Without awaiting a response, Narcissa walks out of her bedchambers, entirely forgetting she’s still dressed in nothing more than a bathrobe and walks down the great staircase into the patio. Although it was still quite early, the sun was already warming the air and she didn’t regret cutting her hair shorter than what was common for women of her stature. 

“Has father already returned from the Signoria?” She asks her older brother who doesn’t even bat an eye at her attire. With time, everyone could grow accustomed to anything. 

“He has, sister. And I warn you, he’s not in the best of spirits,” Lorenzo replies and his sister’s eyes widen at once but he is quick to reassure her. “Mother is stable.” He explains reassuringly and Narcissa finally allows herself to breath out. 

“Whether in good or bad spirits, I’m sure father will be pleased to hear the news I bring.” Narcissa replies before walking away from her younger brother, although he’s much taller than her. 

Father would be happy with what she had to tell him, that was certain. But she knew he would be much less pleased if she were to tell him the truth and not the lie she had been creating in her mind for the past three hours. But alas, father himself always said that the ends justified the means and she wouldn’t contradict this wise man. 

As soon as the guard saw her approaching, he opened the door to her father’s study. “My lord Cosimo, your daughter is here to see you.”

She couldn’t hear her father’s response but she knew she was welcome by the way the sturdy man held open the door for her. “Good morning, father,” she cheerily greeted as soon as she stepped inside the study and poured herself a cup of wine. 

“I don’t know why I bother having dresses made for you, Narcissa,” the middle-aged man chuckled behind his desk, looking at his daughter with pure love in his eyes. 

“Soon enough, that won’t be your responsibility anymore, father,” Narcissa smiled before sitting down in front of him, her legs crossed. At once, her father’s amusement vanished making him seem as old as he truly was. 

“You’re still intent on taking the vows, then?” Cosimo inquired with sadness, already knowing the answer and his daughter merely nodded at his words. “You know there’s no beauty, no art, no love up there. It’s a great honor, undoubtedly, but not exactly the best path to happiness.”

“I don’t seek happiness, you know that. All I want is peace of mind and knowledge.” Narcissa couldn’t avoid noticing the way the skin around her father’s eyes creased and that the gray hairs on his head, at first almost non-existent, now easily surpassed the black ones. She wouldn’t disappoint this man, not if there was another way.  
“But I have considered your offer, father.” She spoke and the man merely raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of wine, not understanding the meaning behind her words. “You told me I shouldn’t take a decision without knowing all that there is to know. I’ve travelled most of Essos without finding a reason not to take my vows. The next thing to do would be testing my determination in Westeros,” Narcissa explained and slowly, she saw her father rejuvenating again.

“You want to do your great travel? The same way I did more than twenty-five years ago?” He asked hesitantly, as if scared his daughter would take back her words. 

The truth was Narcissa had no interest in approaching the Westerosi. They were barbarians more interested in blood than knowledge, in glory than harmony. As far as she was concerned, nothing in Westeros would make her want to stay there. But she had a mission to fulfill, and failure wasn’t an option to her. A few months in Westeros for a whole life in the peace of the High Tower, a fair price.

“Yes, father. I’ve decided to go to Westeros, from the Wall to Dorne, I want to see it all.” Narcissa lied. 

At once, Cosimo stood up and walked around his desk to hug his only daughter. “The Westerosi are known for their brutality and their ancient traditions, Narcissa. You must be careful. But Westeros is also the home to many of the world’s greatest wonders, it’s where I met your mother.”

Narcissa heard her father’s voice crack but she wouldn’t comment on it, not when she was also trying to suppress a sniff herself. She had heard their story countless times, more than she would have liked to. She couldn’t quite believe the love at first sight her parents’ seemed to have experienced with each other, but they were happy, at least until her mother got ill, and that was all that mattered. 

-/-/-/-

“Please take no offence in my words, Sir, but do you really know your way around these lands?” Narcissa asked her guard after hours of riding. She wasn’t usually one to complain, sometimes life was hard and you just had to go through it, but she couldn’t help notice the horses growing tired and she had the impression they had been riding in circles. 

“My lady, I admit I had never set foot in Westeros just a month ago but your father made me memorize the entire continent. We’ve left Dorne a couple of days ago and are now riding north to the Storm Lands.” Piero explained with confidence and Narcissa was left with no other choice than to trust him. 

Everything looked the same to her and it was just then that it started to weigh in on her how far away from home she was. She hadn’t seen her brothers and her parents in over a month. For all she knew, mother could be dead by now but she wouldn’t dwell on that thought. She had said her goodbyes, knowing her travels would be long and she had taken into account the eventuality that they would last longer than what her mother could survive. So, she would travel to the Twins, meet her disgusting grand-father and hopefully find out a little more about her mother’s youth there.

Narcissa would have preferred to find out those things from her mother herself, but it had been years since Amara had last recognized her daughter. She had also asked father but he told her that Amara had never shared much about her time back in Westeros, saying her true life had begun the moment they met and he brought her to Essos. 

“Let’s stop here for the night,” Narcissa ordered her companions. They were travelling with six horses for only three people. Some would have called it a ridiculous expense, but if Narcissa had to spent her father’s coin, she would make sure that they’d never a ride a horse to exhaustion. 

Sir Piero attended to the horses while Narcissa and Gloria walked inside the inn to get three rooms for the night. The inn wasn’t exactly the kind of accommodation Narcissa had been used to in Essos, but after over thirty days in Westeros, she had had no choice but to lower her expectations. 

“I’m rather tired, my lady,” Gloria whispered into her ear, hoping to be heard among the men who were eating supper. “If you don’t have any objections, I would retire to my chambers, my lady.”

“Of course, Gloria. Make sure you eat something before going to bed, though.” 

Narcissa and Piero had supper on a table of their own at the very end of the large room. This meant they had very little light to see what was on their plates but at least the noise was tolerable. “I do hope you do not resent me.” Narcissa said as she buttered some bread. “For making you leave your home to accompany me through these lands, I mean.” Piero finally raised his gaze from his plate which was now empty and Narcissa ordered one of the maids to get him some more food. “You know you can be earnest with me, Piero,” Narcissa said coyly, as if sharing a great secret.

“My lady, accompanying you on this journey has been the very best thing to happen to me since being born in the great city of Florence.”

Narcissa had been sure he was lying, but Piero explained that being born poor, he wouldn’t ever have had the opportunity to go beyond Florence’s walls, had Cosimo not asked him to accompany his daughter on her travels. 

“Well, the pleasure is all mine.” Narcissa cheered, already having had a cup of wine too many. Soon enough, she found Piero yawning and she sent him to his room. He refused at first, but she was quick to remind him that at this hour, the inn was filled with nothing more than cripple old men who moved slower than a snail in mountains. 

Piero left her table and Narcissa asked for an entire pitcher of wine, it would be easier than asking for her glass to be refilled every few minutes. She looked around herself one last time before calling it a night and it took her all she had not to laugh out loud. Had she known back then what she would step into, Narcissa would have admitted her error instead crossing the Narrow Sea. 

Just as she was about to stand up, the door flew open and a very short man walked in with confidence, a handful of armored men behind himself. “I request your best room for tonight,” the blonde man shouted over the noise and the entire room went quiet at once. If she had known this was how it worked, she would have done the same thing hours ago to get some peace and quiet. 

“My apologies, my lord. But there are no more rooms available for tonight,” the inn’s owner replied next to a table he was attending to, his voice trembling with fright. So, Narcissa thought to herself, short he may be, he certainly holds more power than anyone else in this room. 

Silently, the dwarf produced a small black pouch from his pocket and held it up in the air. “I’ll pay whoever forfeits me their room,” the man promised as the coin rattled inside the velvety bag. 

Immediately, people started speaking in hushed voices across the room but before anyone could take up his offer, Narcissa spoke up. “Why don’t you gamble for it, like a respectable man?” She dared the powerful dwarf and immediately, his guards’ hands went to rest on their swords, waiting for the dwarf’s instructions. 

He sought her out in the almost empty room and a smirk appeared on his face as soon as he set on her. She held his gaze and had to admit that he would have been classically beautiful weren’t it for his short height. However, the world was cruel and he was only attractive in a twisted sort of way. 

“Maybe I will, my lady,” he replied loudly enough to be heard in the large enough. 

Merely a few minutes later, he and two other man were sitting around her table, cards in hand. They all played in silence if you didn’t count the funny one-liners the dwarf gifted them with every once in a while. This was the first time Narcissa was enjoying herself in Westeros but she quickly pushed away the thought that Westeros might not be so bad after all. A cards game is a cards game, always enjoyable no matter where. 

But less than an hour later, the other two men left the game, saying they had already lost enough coin for a single night’s gaming. Narcissa picked up the cards in her hands and started shuffling them. 

“My lady, at this point, we could just share the room,” the blonde man suggested with a wink in his eyes as he filled her cup with more wine. 

“And why would I agree to that, my lord?” She inquired teasingly, leaning over the wooden table to deal out the cards. 

“I have money,” the man, who was most likely in his mid to late thirties, replied, bringing the cup to his lips in a suggestive way. Narcissa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips then and hoped he wouldn’t be offended. 

“To a banker’s daughter, money doesn’t mean much.” Narcissa chuckled, picking up her cards and the man looked up at her, a certain mix of curiosity and lust in his eyes. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

“I have a powerful name, maybe I could share it with you.” Much to her dismay, Narcissa was now blushing at his words but she cocked an eyebrow, not wanting to show her emotions to a stranger. “I am Tyrion, Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock.”

Narcissa played an ace of spades before looking at Tyrion again. She had heard his name before. Her father had warned her of the Lannisters before she set sail across the Narrow Sea. “I am Narcissa, Narcissa –” But Tyrion interrupted her before she could finish. 

“Lannister,” he said with an arrogant smirk on his lips that made him seem younger than he was and laughter erupted between Narcissa’s lips. 

“Medici. I am Narcissa Medici,” she said, once she had calmed down. “It was a nice try, I’ll give you that, my lord.”

“You’ve travelled far, all the way from Essos.” Tyrion commented, looking at his cards, before letting her steal his valet. “What brings you to modest Westeros?”

Narcissa cocked her head, pondering her answer. She hadn’t told the truth to Piero or Gloria, but this man didn’t know her father, so what was the harm in it? “A sword,” she said and Tyrion looked expectantly at her, wanting to know more. 

“A game was held in my City, but I had ran out of monthly allowance. So I pawned my father’s precious sword, knowing I would win enough coin in the game to buy it back the next day, my lord.”

“And what happened, my lady? Did you lose?”

“No, my lord, never,” Narcissa blurted out, slapping his hand as if offended. “Someone bought it before I could and brought it to Westeros.”

“Do you know where it is?” Tyrion inquired with interest, the game now long forgotten. 

“I was told that the man who bought it is a tradesman’s from King’s Landing. I’ll recognize it easily, it has my mother’s name written on the blade,” Narcissa explained.

“That’s where I’m headed, to King’s Landing,” Tyrion revealed, now setting his cards aside completely. Narcissa did the same, her eyes were too tired to focus on anything anymore. Or maybe, it was just the wine. “Maybe you could join me, my lady?” He suggested, his green eyes alight with wit, but then again, she had always preferred blue ones.

“And what would people say about a lady following a stranger? I have a reputation to uphold,” Narcissa countered though she knew she wasn’t very believable. A proper lady in Westeros wouldn’t be playing cards in the unholy hours of the night in an inn. 

“Many ugly things they would say, my lady,” Tyrion murmured, shaking his head as if shaking those thoughts away from his mind. “But no one would dare say any of those things about Lady Lannister.”

Narcissa scoffed, turning her face away at his words before she could compose herself. “Do you want to bed me or wed me, my lord? I am confused.” And this time it was Tyrion who laughed and it sounded weirdly melodic. 

“I suppose I’d like to do both,” he admitted confidently. 

“The first, I’m afraid, I wouldn’t agree to in a place such as this,” Narcissa replied with a wink. “As for the second, I plan on taking my vows to the High Tower as soon as I return home.”

“Why would a lady like you want to spend the rest of her life locked up in a tower with nothing to fill her days but the study of life?” 

They spent a couple more hours chatting with each other and Narcissa had to admit that Tyrion Lannister was an interesting man. She hadn’t expected to meet any of those in Westeros. Alas, time didn’t stop and she had to retire if she wanted to be fit for riding in the morning. 

“I apologize, my lord, but it’s time for me to retire. I’m sure you’ll find this wooden benches to be a comfortable bed,” Narcissa joked before standing up and making her way around the table, but before she could really leave, Tyrion caught her hand in his. 

“Travel across Westeros, my lady, and enjoy the sights. Once you arrive at King’s Landing, I’ll have your father’s sword waiting for you.” Tyrion promised, and she wondered what he wanted in return but she didn’t ask.


	2. Chapter 1

“I know, Gloria,” Narcissa sighed as they walked together through the narrow corridors at the Twins. “We’re leaving as soon as I figure out the safest path to the Narrow Sea,” the lady promised. 

“But, my lady,” Gloria blurted out, stepping in front of Narcissa and making her stop in her tracks. “There is war. It isn’t safe to be travelling in these uncertain times, my lady.”

Narcissa smiled at her formality though she had often reminded her handmaiden it wasn’t necessary. She put on a look that she hoped was reassuring and placed her hands upon the taller girl’s shoulders. “War or no war, I’m not staying in this mess a second longer than is necessary. My grandfather is a foul man and I want myself out of his sight as soon as possible. I’ll find ourselves a safe path and we’ll be back in Essos in no time, Gloria. I promise.”

The blonde girl nodded at her lady’s words before leaving. Narcissa wasn’t sure she’d be able to uphold that promise but there was no chance she’d ever admit that to Gloria and scare her even further. 

Just then, two equally ill-favored girls walked past Narcissa, chatting excitedly and paying her no mind. She was thankful for that. Yes, she had hoped to find out more about her mother’s past but she had found most of the Frey girls still at the Twins were far too young to have known her mother, and Walder Frey, well, he was the embodiment of all that was wrong in the world. The mere thought of knowing that his current wife was more than a few younger than herself made the brunette sick to her stomach. 

“Narcissa, think. That’s the only thing you actually excel at,” Narcissa murmured under her breath as she paced around the castle, hoping a plan would make its way into her mind. 

The longer she thought about it, the clearer it became that there was no way she’d make it to King’s Landing unharmed. The Northerners were at their door. If they went South, they’d encounter the King’s army and their reputation wasn’t a kind one. Her only hope would be to head North, catch a ship at the Fingers in direction of Braavos and then ride South to Florence.

“All this for a sword and now I’m going home without even setting foot in King’s Landing,” Narcissa sighed as she walked down the hazardous staircase. She was sure, however, that her father would be far happier to see her get home safely than die for a sword. It’d just mean she’d have to admit her mistake. 

Suddenly, Narcissa felt a cold hand on her shoulder and jumped with fright, turning around at once. Before she could say anything, the ginger haired lady beat her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve scared you, my lady,” the woman apologized with a sad smile between her defined cheekbones. “I was wondering if you’d show me out. This castle is a maze.”

“Most certainly, my lady. Though I must warn you, I’m not perfectly acquainted with the treacherous ways around this place, either,” Narcissa said, before turning a sharp right, the red-haired lady at her side. 

“Thank you,” the woman smiled once again and for a split second, Narcissa wondered if she’d ever see her own mother smile again. “I suppose you’re one of Walder’s many daughters?” 

Narcissa cringed at the mere thought of that guess being true. “No, my lady. I’m Narcissa, one of Walder Frey’s equally numerous granddaughters,” she chuckled. “Forgive me, but who are you, my lady?” Narcissa dared asking, taking another quick look at the older woman but she didn’t appear offended by her question. 

“I’m Lady Catelyn Stark, wife of Lord Eddard Stark.”

“And mother of Lord Robb Stark whose army surrounds us,” Narcissa commented in a tone she hoped didn’t show her bitterness at the situation. “I’m sorry for the misfortune that currently befalls your family but I’m certain your son will soon sort this out.” Next to her, Lady Stark nodded silently as if in deep thought. 

“Do you know anything about war, Lady Narcissa?” The red-haired woman asked and at first, Narcissa thought it was a joke but the serious tone quickly led her to believe otherwise. 

“I like to think I know how to talk myself out of a war, my lady.” Catelyn Stark chuckled at the young woman’s words though it wasn’t with amusement. “I mean no offense, but I believe war is merely an argument between two powerful men that escalates and ends up ruining the lives of many men.”

“I used to think the same way,” Catelyn admitted heavily before exhaling. “But now King Joffrey holds my husband captive and my daughters are at his mercy. One word from his mouth and they are dead.”

Silence fell upon the two women and Narcissa didn’t know what to reply to these words. She wasn’t a wife nor a mother, but she could imagine the great stress Lady Stark was under. “Then I recommend you have King Joffrey’s tongue cut out,” Narcissa joked, hoping to diffuse the tension and Catelyn’s pure laugh filled her ears. 

“It was a pleasure walking with you, Lady Narcissa,” Catelyn said once they had reached the gates. 

-/-/-/- 

Narcissa was sitting at her desk, writing a letter to her father when Gloria entered the bedchambers with clean dresses in her hands. Narcissa paid her no attention at first, being too preoccupied at finding a way of letting her father know they were in the premises of war without worrying him all too much, apologizing for losing his sword and telling him what a disappointing man her grandfather was, all in the same letter and in less than twenty lines. It was a difficult task but after a couple of tries, Narcissa knew this was as good as it would get and proceeded to roll it up. 

“I’ll take a bath now and send a raven to my father before dinner,” Narcissa told Gloria, getting up from the chair and stretching out her full body. She didn’t find herself to be particularly beautiful but Gloria had seen her in her most simple apparel numerous times, and Narcissa no longer minded undressing in front of her. 

Slowly, she stepped inside the iron bathtub filled with warm water and let her body relax as Gloria washed her hair. “I forgot to tell you earlier, my lady, but Lord Frey wishes to speak to you. Before dinner.” Gloria informed her as she lathered Narcissa’s shoulder length hair with shampoo. 

“He’ll have to wait until I muster up the patience to speak with him again,” Narcissa sneered. They had arrived at the Twins a fortnight ago and old Walder hadn’t been exactly welcoming to his granddaughter. First, he couldn’t even remember his daughter Amara. And then, he asked she pay for her and her companion’s accommodation. 

“It did seem to be rather urgent, my lady,” Gloria insisted, her skinny fingers massaging her lady’s scalp.

“To an old man on the brink of death, everything seems urgent,” Narcissa laughed but much to her surprise Gloria didn’t do the same and instead, went completely still and silent. And then she realized her handmaiden was afraid of Walder Frey. He may have been an old man, but he wasn’t exactly known for kindness, especially when it came to servants. “You send the raven and I will talk to Walder after this bath.”

-/-/-/-

Just like she had expected, Walder Frey was sitting on his small, brittle throne in the grand hall. He looked ridiculous but Narcissa doubted he’d care to hear her opinion. “Grandfather,” Narcissa announced arrogantly, suddenly appearing in front of him and not bothering with a curtesy. 

“Your mother didn’t manage to teach you any manners before falling ill, did she?” Walder Frey sneered before trying to sit up straight and failing miserably. Narcissa looked at him with curiosity, wondering how such an ugly man could have been blessed with such a beautiful daughter as her mother. She thought long and hard about it, yet she could not come up with an answer. 

“And yet, somehow, you still asked to be graced with my unmannered presence. Curious man you are, grandfather.” Narcissa said, almost spitting out the last word before reconsidering. He might have been an old man, but she couldn’t deny that he was intimating when he sat there on the stage towering over her short height. 

“I’m afraid I will not be cursed with your presence for long, my child,” Walder Frey spoke confidently and Narcissa frowned at his words. “I’m marrying you off tomorrow.”

All of a sudden, laughter filled the room and tears threatened to spill out of Narcissa’s brown eyes. “You’re funny, old man,” Narcissa managed to say as she tried to calm down but Walder didn’t appear amused. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you have no right to make such arrangements for me. You’re not my father.”

“I am your grandfather and you are my granddaughter. You will do as I say.” Narcissa thought about his words for a couple of seconds. He did have a point, she conceded. Cosimo de Medici being from Essos, Walder Frey held the power to marry her off in Westeros. 

“Or what?” Narcissa dared the old man, cocking her eyebrows and calling out his bluff. She had money, she could easily take her horses and ride out of the Twins in less than an hour. 

“Or little Gloria and little Piero will find themselves without a head.” Walder Frey said firmly before getting up from the ridiculous throne and walking past Narcissa, straight to the door. “I’m sure you’ll be on your best behavior as you meet Lord Stark at dinner tonight.”

Narcissa stood there in the middle of large room, blankly staring at the weirdly decorated chair Walder had just vacated. Cursed be the day she decided to come to Westeros, Narcissa thought, angry at herself. If she had known what was going on, she would never have been so polite with Lady Stark this morning. 

Seething, Narcissa walked into her bedroom and started throwing her belongings into her trunk. Tears threatened her eyes but she had always been too proud to cry with anything but laughter. Speaking with a guard on her way there, Narcissa had discovered Gloria and Piero had been locked in a cell and were only to be released once the wedding took place the following day. 

Soon enough, a girl Narcissa had never met walked into her bedchambers and started getting her ready for dinner. She tried to pin up her hair and then braid it, but Narcissa’s hair was too short for any of that. “Which dress will you wear tonight, my lady?” The young girl asked hesitantly, not knowing Narcissa would never strike a servant.

“Whichever one you pick.”

The girl picked out an olive green dress with golden ornaments and Narcissa put it on without comment. At this point, she was beyond caring and when she walked down the steep staircase to the grand hall, she didn’t bother paying attention to her steps. Falling down and breaking her neck didn’t seem like a bad predicament anymore. 

“Finally, she blesses us with her presence,” Walder Frey announced theatrically as Narcissa walked into the room which hosted a lot more men than she had thought physically possible. At once, everyone stood up and although she found that utterly ridiculous, she didn’t say a word as she walked up to Walder Frey’s elevated table. 

“Lady Narcissa, I’m happy to see you again,” Catelyn Stark greeted her warmly before kissing her cheek. “Let me introduce you to my son, Lord Robb Stark,” she said as a tall man with broad shoulders suddenly appeared next to her. 

Due to their height difference, Narcissa had to raise her head to look at him and when she did, she found that he was already looking at her. He had sparking blue eyes, topped with wild curls on his head and a short beard surrounding his lips. She had to admit that had she met him under different circumstances, she might have been tempted to flirt with him and attempted to find out more about him. But the circumstances were these and she would wed him tomorrow, whether she wanted it or not.

“My lady,” Lodd Stark said coarsely before bending to kiss the hand she had held out for him. 

“My lord,” Narcissa whispered back. They stood facing each other in awkward silence until Walder declared it was time to eat. 

Much to her dismay, she found herself squeezed between her grandfather and her soon-to-be husband. The table was obviously much too small for the amount of people sitting around it. Robb Stark started talking to the young man sitting in front of him, and Narcissa let herself relax. She looked around the room and found that there weren’t nearly enough servants for the amount of diners, and decided to help herself. 

She had merely stretched out her arms over the table, when Robb Stark grabbed the tray she was trying to reach and silently started pilling food in her plate. She turned her head to face him, her eyebrows cocked but Robb Stark replied with a small smile. “My men are hungry. Within minutes, these trays will be empty and you would be left to starve, my lady.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, my lord. But I happen not to eat meat,” Narcissa explained as she moved the chicken in her plate to Robb Stark’s. 

“She sounds like a bore, Robb,” the young man in front of Robb Stark scoffed impolitely, staring at her. “She may be easy on the eyes but I’d choose another Frey if I were you.” He said, smirking at Narcissa.

“Theon!” Both Lady Catelyn and Lord Robb Stark indignantly shouted at once but the Theon guy kept the smug look on his face. 

“Dear Theon, I hope my words do not offend you, but I believe the most carnivorous lady in the world would refuse your meat, even if it meant starving.” Narcissa said before eating her vegetables. Next to her, Lord Stark chuckled. 

Once most had finished eating, music was played and a handful of people started dancing on the other end of the room. Others, gathered around in small groups to chatter away. 

“Would you dance with me, my lady?” Robb Stark whispered into Narcissa’s ear, hoping to be heard through the noise. For a split second, she was tempted to agree but she quickly came back to her senses.   
“I apologize, my Lord, but I have some packing to do,” Narcissa politely declined before standing up abruptly. She wasn’t looking forward to the tedious task, but it needed to be done and without Gloria’s help, it would take her longer. It’s not like she was enthusiastic about leaving under these circumstances.

“Then at least allow me to accompany you to your chambers, Lady Narcissa,” Robb Stark offered, but she knew better than to say no. Silently, she linked her arm with his and together they exited the room. She wondered if they ought to have a chaperone but it seemed ridiculous to appoint one now, considering they would be wed in a few hours. 

“My mother told me of your quick wit,” Robb Stark admitted once the noise from the great hall faded away. They had been walking in silence and Narcissa had been figuring out the quickest way to her chambers. 

“I do hope that’s not the reason you chose me, my lord,” Narcissa said absentmindedly as they entered a corridor she had never been in before and realized she was actually lost. 

“And why not, my lady?” Lord Stark asked with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. 

“It gets old rather quickly and soon you will resent me for it, my lord,” Narcissa admitted. That’s what Lorenzo always said, a snarky line a day was okay, but any more and it became a bore. However, next to her, Robb Stark chuckled even though she hadn’t intended to be funny. 

“I’d much rather have an annoying wife, than a dull one, my lady,” Robb Stark confessed, squeezing her arm a little tighter before going silent, hoping Narcissa would pick up the conversation. But she didn’t and silence surrounded them. 

Robb looked down at his betrothed though from this angle, he could only see the top of her brown head. She seemed to have forgotten the way to her chambers but he didn’t wish to offend her by pointing it out, so he let himself follow her all the while memorizing their steps. 

“Why do you wear your hair so short, Narcissa?” Her name slipped before he could take it back and call her ‘my lady’. For a moment, he thought to correct it but he reminded himself that by this time tomorrow she would be his wife and he’d like to address his wife by her given name. 

“I’d rather be cold, than warm,” The small woman next to him explained, looking straight ahead before sighing in relief, most likely finally recognizing where they were. “And there is very little I dislike more than a warm neck, my lord.”

Somehow, he was disappointed she hadn’t followed suit and called him by his name. Maybe she needed his permission to do so? “You do seem to be rather pragmatic,” Robb chuckled. “And please, you may call me Robb.”

Narcissa stopped by a door, most likely her bedchambers. “If you take no offense, I’d rather call you by your title, my lord,” Narcissa said before untangling their arms and moving away to face him. While she was more than petite in height, her body was a curvy one and Robb Stark had to admit his mother was right, she would have no trouble bearing his children. 

“No offense taken,” Robb Stark said reassuringly though it wasn’t exactly true. Why was she so keen on keeping this distance between them? She looked up at him expectantly, most likely waiting for him to bid her goodnight and let her be. And yet he was left wondering if her skin always appeared so golden, or if it was only due to the dim light. “My mother found a Godswood nearby, but if you prefer a Sept, I won’t mind.”

Narcissa frowned at his words, desperately trying to remember the time her father had spoken them too. And then it came to her. She finally remembered that while most Westerosi men worshipped the Seven, the Northerners prayed to the Old Gods. Narcissa hadn’t been brought up according to any specific faith. She remembered Cosimo saying once that if there was a God, then he’d done a very poor job. “The Godswood’s fine, my lord. I shall respect your faith.”

“You do not seem very eager to marry me?” Robb Stark asked hesitantly. He knew the girl would have no choice in the matter, but he had expected her to at least be happy to leave the Twins and marry into a noble family. And yet, in front of him, Narcissa only mastered a meager smile. 

“I am not,” she admitted, upholding his gaze. “But worry not, my lord. I shall do as is expected of me.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter 2!   
> Warnings: Smut, though I wouldn’t exactly called it that.

Narcissa had overslept, way past noon. She had spent most of her night packing her belongings and indulging in wine. Most of all though, she had spent hours imagining all the ways she could kill Walder Frey. She had been sure she would toss and turn, and spend a sleepless worrying about her wedding, but in the end, it seemed, she had had one drink too many. 

Before that, she had taken the time to hide most of the gold as well as the map and writings beneath the mattress. Walder Frey had promised he would set Gloria and Piero free the moment she had was wed and she would hold him to his word. She had promised Gloria and Piero she’d get them back to Essos safely, and that’s exactly what she intended to do. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a couple of handmaidens came rushing in with Lady Stark following close behind. Silently, they took off her nightgown so she could bathe before putting on the wedding dress. She wondered how they had managed to find one on such a short notice, but with so many daughters around, Walder Frey most likely wanted to be ready to marry them off at any time. 

“Are you nervous, Lady Narcissa?” Catelyn Stark asked, sitting by the window, her hair the color of fire though not much light shone through. 

“I find nervousness to be a pointless emotion, my lady,” Narcissa replied as one of the handmaidens brushed her dark hair. Anger, however, was a very useful emotion in her books. Lady Stark shooed the maid off, deciding to brush the bride’s hair herself and Narcissa had to admit that her hands were much more gentle. 

“Please call me Catelyn,” she chuckled. “We’ll soon enough be kin after all.” As if Narcissa needed to be reminded of that. “I know you didn’t want this, and most certainly didn’t expect it but there is no need to be afraid of my son, Narcissa. He is a good man.”

“I’m sure any boy raised by you would grow into a good man, Catelyn,” Narcissa replied with poise and no confidence in her words. 

Catelyn then proceeded to tell the young woman what to expect on her wedding night as if she hadn’t had the talk with her own mother when she first flowered years ago. She also shared her own story with Narcissa, how her and Lord Stark’s marriage had been an arranged one and despite all that, they had still managed to build love, stone by stone.   
Narcissa listened with a quiet smile but didn’t feel all too concerned by the words. She intended to sail off to Essos as soon as Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing and be long gone before he could even start to get used to her company. 

As soon as Lady Catelyn Stark and the handmaidens left her alone, she rushed to her trunk and frantically started looking for the wooden box where she kept most of the medicine. Inside, the brunette found a few pouches of herbs and decided to brew moon tea straight away, before Walder Frey could arrive to bring her to the Godswood and sell her off. The taste was bitter and sour but she drank the entire cup anyway, eyes shut tight. 

-/-/-/-

“It’s actually a great honor to marry Lord Stark, you know,” Walder Frey screeched as he tried to fasten a worn out blue coat around his granddaughter’s neck. The feel of his bony fingers on her skin sent painful shivers through her spine, making her feel terribly sorry for his current and past wives. 

“I’m aware of that. That’s why you should have given it to one of your daughters,” Narcissa seethed before grabbing the lacy ties from his hands and fastening the bloody coat herself. 

“Aye, I tried,” old Walder cackled before leading her out of the room. “But he and his mother only had eyes for you. I wonder why.” Narcissa was certain that had been meant as an insult, but truly, his bitterness did nothing more than amuse her at this point. It would simply give her so much more pleasure when she’d have her revenge. 

“Maybe because I don’t remind them of you, grandfather.”

They made their way out of the keep and through the path into the Godswood. She wished she’d be able to say that she saw many familiar face looking kindly at her on her wedding day, but most of these were strangers and the remaining ones looked like they wanted her head on a spike. 

Gradually, as they left the castle walls, the sky seemed to darken as if night had fallen early or a storm was coming. Narcissa wondered almost hopefully if the wedding would be called off if it suddenly started raining and thundering, but she supposed the only thing that would achieve was dirtying her long ivory dress. Walder Frey seemed eager to sell her off and Robb Stark was equally eager to cross the bridge. 

At last, they approached the heart tree and it took her all of her strength not to laugh when she saw how ugly that thing really was. Surely, an Almighty God would have picked out a more beautiful tree? 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this day?” Lady Catelyn Stark spoke solemnly once Walder Frey and his granddaughter reached the heart tree. However all Narcissa could notice was how this part of the woods was so much darker than rest. Even now during daylight, torches had to be lit and held by the guests. 

“Narcissa, of the House Frey, come here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” Walder Frey replied and she was surprised the old man’s voice hadn’t cracked mid-sentence. Most of all, however, she was horrified by the archaic nature of these words. ‘Claiming’ someone as if they were at Slaver’s Bay and purchasing a person. 

“Robb, of House Stark, heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?” It was only then that she lifted her gaze to take a proper at Robb Stark on their wedding day. He was a complete and yet within minutes he’d be her husband. His eyes were just as blue as she remembered, though he seemed to have cut his beard and his hair shorter. For a quick second, she wondered if he had done it to please her.

“Walder, of the House Frey, her grandfather.”

“Lady Narcissa, do you take this man?” Lady Catelyn asked then, her voice crystal clear in the artificial night and Narcissa realized with a sudden fright she wasn’t entirely sure what the proper answer was. 

She looked at Robb Stark for what she thought was the longest time, silently asking him what to say. She tried to see if he wanted to flee as much as she did or if for some incomprehensible reason, he believed she’d make a good wife for him. Then she considered fleeing alone, and all although she might have been able to outrun the wedding party, she’d never be capable setting Piero and Gloria free, and that was something she couldn’t allow. 

“I take this man,” she finally agreed and caught Robb Stark slowly exhaling in front of her, as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time. 

Then, Robb stretched out his hand for her to take. She wondered what would happen if she refused but she figured she had just said her vows and Robb now held the power to force her. Narcissa stretched out her hand and placed in his. Immediately, he laced his fingers with hers, delicately, before turning around and kneeing in front the heart tree. The bride followed suit, rather confused by the whole ordeal until she understood it was supposed to be a moment of silent prayer. 

Dear Old Gods, whoever you are, please let my mother live long enough for me to see her at least one more time. Please let Gloria and Piero return safely to Florence. Please let me do the same in due time. 

And then, she opened her eyes just a little and dared a quickly glance sideways at her new husband. He was still praying, eyes closed and mouthing something she couldn’t quite understand though she believed having heard her name, and she finally came to cognize that she didn’t hate him, she didn’t love him either but there was no hate. Certainly, he’d also much rather be marrying another girl and having fun in Winterfell instead of heading to King’s Landing to free his father. 

Dear Old Gods, please do not make me a widow. 

As if on cue, Robb Stark rose and she mirrored his movement. Almost solemnly, he slid his hand away from hers and brought it to her neck. She didn’t quite know what was going on until she felt him untie the dark blue cloak from around her shoulders and hand it to Walder Frey who was standing just a few feet away. 

She didn’t have the time to judge whether the air was cold as Robb Stark quickly fastened a thicker black coat around her shoulders, his fingers warmer than her grandfather’s. The coat was heavy and the broad fur trim around her neck made her feel nauseous but she supposed now wasn’t the time to offend her newlywed husband. 

Still with his hands on her shoulders, Robb Stark leaned forward and kissed her for all to see. 

-/-/-/-

The walk back to the castle was a true mess. It had started raining after all and everyone was hurrying to the feast. Robb, however, didn’t let go of his Narcissa and let her choose the pace, effectively putting them among the last ones to arrive at the feast. 

“I hope this is not the worst day of your life, Lady Stark,” Robb Stark commented with amusement, watching her try to avoid the puddles. For two quick seconds, she looked around them to find his mother but Catelyn was nowhere to be seen. Only then did she realize he was addressing her and but not entirely unpleasant. Better be a Stark than a Frey, she mused. 

“I suppose it will all depend on what’s for dinner, Lord Stark,” Narcissa replied in the same tone and was glad to see that her words had not offended him. If anything, she supposed he enjoyed her repartee. 

The feast was horrible, truly, but Narcissa wasn’t surprised. There was nothing Walder Frey could do to disappoint her anymore. Robb and his men didn’t seem displeased by the assortment of foods, however. She guessed war numbed your taste buds. 

Robb asked her to dance with him just like the previous night, only this time she knew she couldn’t refuse. Gracefully, she accepted his hand and he led her to the ballroom area where many couples were already dancing. 

Narcissa soon realized her upbringing was much different than most noble girls’ in Westeros. All of them knew how to dance and how to sew. She knew how to calculate the rate of interest on a loan and how to broker a favorable deal, but that didn’t help her then. The sheer size of Robb’s hand on her waist intimidated her enough to forget the little she knew about dancing. Luckily, Robb Stark wasn’t a particularly confident dancer either, or maybe he just didn’t know this type of dance, but she was left to wonder which one of them looked most like a fool. 

After a couple of inelegant dances, Robb Stark went to twirl with his mother and Narcissa spotted Piero among the eating men. It appeared Walder Frey had kept his promise. It took her a lot of awkward waves to get his attention, but as soon as he noticed she was beckoning him to her, he came running. 

“Listen carefully, Piero,” she whispered as they danced together, a little too slow for the music. “In my chambers, beneath the mattress, there’s gold and a map. I traced the path you and Gloria should follow to reach the Narrow Sea.” People were staring at them curiously, but at this point, Narcissa had bigger worries.

“I cannot leave you here. I promised your father I’d look out for you,” Piero protested before stepping on her foot and immediately apologizing. 

“I know. But I promised Gloria I’d get her to Essos safely and you will travel with her,” the lady insisted, staring straight into his brown eyes until he gave in and nodded. “Once in Florence, you’ll tell my father exactly what is going on and he’ll find a way to bring me back.” If I don’t do it myself before, she almost added. 

The dance ended just then but she made sure he promised to do as she said before letting him out of her sight. 

“Lady Stark,” Theon Greyjoy chanted nasally, appearing in front of her out of thin air. “I believe it’s time for the bedding ceremony.” The man in his early twenties said, eyeing her very inappropriately. Narcissa merely furrowed her eyebrows, rather confused. Weren’t all the bloody ceremonies over?

Arrogantly, as if acting within his right, Theon’s hands reached for the front buttons of her ivory dress before undoing the first one. “My lord, you do that again, and I’ll take a finger for each button that you touch,” she hissed, swatting his hand away. Men from Westeros truly were a disgusting breed. 

Suddenly, Robb Stark was next to Theon, shoving him off. “I told you before, Theon, there will be no bedding ceremony,” Robb told his friend menacingly, through clenched teeth before turning back to the bride. 

“I think it’s time for us to retire, Lady Stark,” he said, the blue in his eyes washed out with the wine and his hair a little wilder. 

-/-/-/-

Robb Stark held the door open for her and she unceremoniously stepped inside the chambers that had been assigned to them. They looked much like the ones she had previously occupied and she supposed they all looked the same at the Twins. It’s not like Lord Walder Frey would care much for appearances when he allowed himself to walk around with his face uncovered.

Robb locked the door behind themselves and immediately rushed to the fireplace to add more wood since the flames had been burning low. Narcissa didn’t mind a cold room, but once again, it didn’t feel quite right to argue about a bedroom’s perfect temperature with her new husband on their wedding night. It’s not like they would spend many nights together, Narcissa expected. 

“Thank you for calling off the bedding ceremony. It was very thoughtful of you, my lord,” she said softly, staring at his back as he kneed in front of the fire. To be entirely honest, she wasn’t quite sure what the bedding ceremony entailed but it didn’t sound pleasant. 

“Aye. My father did the same when he wed my mother. I find it degrading,” Robb replied and Narcissa nodded at his words even though he wasn’t able to see her. He wasn’t that bad of a company, she thought. When he wasn’t brooding at least. 

Slowly, he stood up tall and turned around, facing his wife at last. For some reason, he appeared just as uncertain as she was though she was sure he had known other women. Narcissa stared at him for a long time and instinctively knew he was doing the same, gauging her in silence. She supposed that if she had to lay with a man, Robb Stark was not the worst possible option. Quite the opposite, and yet, she didn’t entirely look forward to it. Not like this, with people most likely listening at the door. 

“Will you undress me, or should I do it myself?” Narcissa eventually asked when the silence started feeling too heavy. But he didn’t reply. Instead, his blue eyes were boring into her, and yet she didn’t quite know if he was looking at her or through her. “My lord?” She added tentatively and Robb Stark shook his head, finally focusing on her words. 

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then cleared his voice instead. “I think I’d like to do it myself, Narcissa, if you’d allow me.” He made his way over to the girl, swiftly like a predator and she was quite sure that thought would amuse her in the morning. However, in the present, her breath was caught in her throat as he undid the front buttons one by one with very little trouble and a pair of steady hands. This was definitely not his first time, Narcissa confirmed internally. 

When all the buttons were undone, she removed her arms from the sleeves and let the gown slip off her now naked body. She had insisted earlier that day that she ought to at least wear a shift underneath but the older handmaiden had argued husbands didn’t have patience for that kind of attire on their wedding night. 

She looked up into his eyes to find that his were fixated on her breasts. It took her all the discipline she had not to start laughing at loud. Instead, her hands reached over to the cords of his doublet and started pulling them out of their holes, quickly realizing his clothes were a lot more complicated than hers were. 

Suddenly, Narcissa felt his thumb beneath chin, tilting her head upwards so he could kiss her again, for the first time since the wedding ceremony. His lips tasted of wine and ale, and much to her surprise, the mixture wasn’t as bad as she had expected. If anything, it was actually rather pleasant. However soft his lips were, his tongue was a lot more ferocious battling against hers with a passion she wasn’t familiar with. 

Nonetheless, she recognized the urgency in his movements, in the way his left hand tangled in her hair and the firm grasp of his right one on her waist, and decided to match the pace, discarding his leather doublet as quickly as possible, disliking the feel of leather against her skin. 

Robb Stark broke off their kiss then, taking off his billowy shirt and undoing the laces of his breeches. She sat down on the bed, silently watching him. His body was hairier than she had expected, but then again he was a Northerner and she ought to have expected that. 

Her husband joined her on the bed, kissing her again with lust before pushing her into a lying position, covering her naked body with his. He used his left arm to support himself, but his right hand was roaming all over her skin, except in one particular place. “You’re allowed to touch them, my lord,” Narcissa whispered huskily before grabbing his right hand and placing it on her bosom. “I’m yours now,” she added, though the bitterness of her thoughts didn’t show in her voice. Her words had the effect of making him more confident in his movements, as if knowing she was his enhanced the pleasure of touching her. 

“Are you a maiden, Narcissa?” Robb wondered in a raspy voice, pressing his body flush against her as she felt his hardened manhood digging into my hip and nervousness finally started kicking in.

“Yes, my lord,” she replied in a whisper, rather surprised by his question. Every noble girl in Westeros was expected to be a maiden on her wedding night and she was sure it was obvious she didn’t know what she was doing. 

“Aye, I’ll be gentle then.” He promised next to her ear before repositioning himself over her and prying her legs open with his knee, something she had forgotten to do. 

He aligned himself with her core and she felt the tip of his manhood pressing against her folds. Narcissa lifted up her gaze to his face and noticed he was actually waiting for permission. Though unexpected it was, it was a nice gesture and she nodded accordingly, rather nervous now, not that she’d admit it. 

Slowly, Robb pushed himself inside her, his moans feeling the chambers. Narcissa closed her eyes and bit her lips as not to cry. She had expected some pain, her mother had warned her of it, so had Lady Stark only a few hours ago but they had certainly failed telling her exactly how much. For a quick second she wondered if this was the moment wives started resenting their husbands. 

She felt his rough thumb brush away the tears off her cheek and noticed he was trying very hard to remain still, his muscles tense and his breath ragged. “Forgive me, Narcissa.” Robb muttered against the crook of her neck. Did her tears offend or pain him, she wondered. 

“Please just go on,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling, at Walder Frey’s ugly ceiling. 

She wished she could say that the pain subsided after a few thrusts, but that would have been a lie. She forced herself to stop crying and instead focused on Robb’s moans and groans just next to her ear, the way his warm skin felt around hers and the soft scratching of his stubble on her neck. Focusing on anything but the way how pain soured through her each time their skin forcefully collided down there.   
How ironic it was that something that caused her so much pain procured him so much pleasure. With a twisted thought crossing her mind, Narcissa placed her hands on the muscles of his back, digging her nails into his skin as if hoping to inflict him a little pain but the raspy sounds coming out of his mouth weren’t ones of pain, quite the opposite. 

Robb came with a guttural groan which she was rather sure would have been heard in the adjoining rooms. She felt his seed coat her walls and quickly thought about the moon tea she had drank a few hours earlier. Slowly, Robb pulled himself out her and let his body fall next to hers, his chest moving raggedly and his fine chest hairs sticking to his skin with sweat. At least it wasn’t an ugly sight. She actually had to suppress a tight smile, seeing him like this, eyes closed, half-open lips and a satisfied look on his face. 

He took her by surprise, stretching out his arm on the mattress, inviting his wife to cuddle up against his body. She considered doing so for a split second, but the pain was still very much present and all she could think about was the blood on her skin and that it was his fault. She bit her lip again as she got out of bed, hoping that would help her handle the soreness and walked over to the washbasin, before grabbing a rag.

“Fuck, Narcissa!” Robb Stark cursed loudly and it was the first time she had heard him use such language. Immediately, she turned around to see him worriedly look between the sheets and herself. Narcissa knew there was blood between her tights, she had felt it there, but she hadn’t expected there to have been so much on the bed. “I’m calling for a Maester,” he decided, ready to jump out of bed. 

“No, my lord, don’t,” Narcissa objected quickly, wetting the rag in the washbasin and avoiding his gaze. Old Walder’s laughter wouldn’t die down if he found out his granddaughter was so weak she required a Maester after her wedding night. Or maybe, he’d pat Robb Stark on the back to congratulate him. In any case, it was just blood and pain. War was coming and there would be a lot more of that, she was sure of it. 

“At least let me help you,” Robb insisted, leaving the bed before she could say anything.

“If you do not mind, my lord, I’d rather do it myself.” Narcissa had grown up being taught that Westerosi men were barbarians. Walder Frey had proven her right, Robb Stark might have been on the right track to prove her wrong but in her head she was still Narcissa de Medici and she required no one’s help. “You should go back to bed. A long ride awaits us tomorrow, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I have to say it was incredibly difficult to write ‘smut’ in the third person, made me like a voyeur haha. Hope you aren’t disappointed!


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here’s chapter three ;)   
> It’s quite slow-paced with little to no action but I needed to set the décor for the future chapters. Hope you’ll enjoy finding out more about Narcissa!

11 years ago 

Narcissa threw open the door to her father’s study, panting heavily as she had just run around the mansion and down the stairs. Behind his desk, Cosimo didn’t even blink. No one respected that wooden door, so much that he seriously considered hiring a guard just to keep it closed. 

“Shouldn’t you be in your lesson? It’s Math today, if I’m not mistaken.” The father said, eyeing the tiny girl suspiciously as she poured herself a glass of water. 

“Lorenzo is stupid!” She groaned before taking a large sip. “He doesn’t even know what is 7 times 8 is.” Narcissa complained and walked over to sit down in front of her father. 

“And what is 312 times 12?” Cosimo asked, rather bemused by his daughter’s antics. 

“312 times 10 is 3120. 312 times 2 is 624. 3120 plus 624 equals 3744.” Narcissa answered after a few seconds, lisping slightly due to her missing her front tooth. It had fallen out just a week before.

“This is why I’m entrusting you with the bank when I retire,” Cosimo chuckled. He had completely shaven off his beard recently because mother preferred it that way, but Narcissa thought it made him look peculiar and too young. 

“No. I want to live in the High Tower and be a Thinker!” Narcissa immediately objected, already dreaming about her future. “I’d do something great like Ursula and Octavio who invented the aqueducts!” 

“And what would you invent?” He inquired, going back to what he had been doing earlier before she barged in and polished the sword. 

“A carriage but one which wouldn’t require horses. And which would be faster too!” His daughter replied confidently, obviously already having given it much thought. 

“How would that work?” Cosimo inquired, raising an eyebrow, truly curious now. 

“I don’t know. I’m nine!” Narcissa blurted out and her father couldn’t help laughing out loud. Cursed be the man that would marry her one day if she didn’t take the vows, Cosimo thought with amusement, sure that her tongue would only grow sharper with time. 

“Is that the blade you always keep locked in the safe?” The small girl asked, turning sideways to find that the safe was open. She had never seen it open before!

“Yes,” her father replied with a smile. “It’s a very important sword.” He said and his daughter begged him to continue. “Many years ago when I travelled through Westeros, I came across the Riverlands where I met your mother. We fell in love in less than a week!” Cosimo remembered. “Her father, your grandfather, refused to let her come with me. I insisted and he said we should settle it with a swordfight.”

“No offense, father, but I’ve seen you with a sword. It’s not a pretty sight!” Narcissa interrupted. 

“Yes, that’s true but that day, I won! All thanks to this sword.” He said, raising it slightly so his daughter could take a better look. “Had your mother’s name engraved when we returned to Florence. She was so happy to have left the Twins, she declared that one day she wants to be buried with it by her side.”

“Why are you polishing it now?” The nine-year old asked in a tiny voice, frightened something was to happen to her mother but Cosimo was quick to reassure her. 

“Because tomorrow is our 15th wedding anniversary and I want to cut the cake with this sword.”

Narcissa was thinking about something to say when they started hearing footsteps outside, fast approaching and both father and daughter immediately knew who it was. Without losing a second, Narcissa stood up and ran to hide behind her father’s desk just seconds before Amara opened the door, not bothering with knocking either. 

“Have you seen Cissa?” Mother asked Cosimo, and the girl didn’t need to look at the her to know she had her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Preceptor Abacus just complained she fled from class again!”

“No, darling. I haven’t seen her all day.” 

-/-/-/

“Pardon me, my lady, but aren’t you supposed to be with your husband?” Gloria asked Narcissa warily. It was quite early and her ladyship had always been known as a late sleeper, mostly because she was also a night owl. 

“He’s still sleeping, I believe.” Narcissa replied absentmindedly as she spotted a bowl of sugar cubes on the kitchen table and proceeded to put some in her pockets. “I needed to talk to you,” she whispered. “Alone.”

Gloria followed her out of the kitchens silently into a dimly lit corridor in the servant’s quarters. “When you reach the port, gift the horses to someone who will take good care of them.” The brunette instructed the blonde girl, though her tone wasn’t a bossy one. “Piero has the map and the money, you’ll be safe. Wait until the Stark army has left, and then head Northeast.”

Immediately, Gloria starts objecting to these arrangements but Narcissa silenced her quickly. She was the lady, it was her decision. Besides, Robb Stark would most likely offer her the perfect ride to King’s Landing and once there, she’d get the sword and escape Westeros without help, amid the chaos. “I just need one last thing from you, if do not mind Gloria.”

The servant girl didn’t comment as she let Narcissa rummage through the bag of medicine Gloria had brought with her from Florence on the healer’s orders. She took a small sip of milk of the poppy, certain that riding wouldn’t help her soreness. The servant girl didn’t budge either as Narcissa took a few vials of penicillin and all of the moon tea herbs. Her lady perhaps wasn’t as kind as her mother Amara, or as a good conversationalist as her younger brother Valentino, but everyone knew to trust her judgment, even her own father. 

“Promise me to take care of yourself, Narcissa,” Gloria pleaded, tears in her eyes as she hugged Narcissa one last time and using her name for the first time. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa only realized how late it was when she noticed Robb Stark’s men were already assembling in the castle grounds, preparing their horses. She tried spotting her husband in the crowd but there were too many men, all dressed similarly. “Imagine if they left without me,” Narcissa whispered to herself almost giggling. 

She stopped in her tracks, however, when she reached the great hall, or rather the walls outside of it. Her bloodied bedsheets hung proudly on the stonewall like they were some grand work of art by Boticelli himself. 

“A very beautiful painting, Lady Stark.” Theon Greyjoy commented, assuming a false contemplative state. He had a tendency to pop out of thin air, like a rat you only noticed when your foot stepped on it. “What do you think the artist was trying to express?” The smile on Theon’s thin lips was one-sided, much like a rictus and Narcissa wondered why her husband kept him around, his company was the worst. 

“He was painting the blood that will gush out of your throat if you annoy me once again, my lord.” She merely replied, trying not to dwell on the shameful exhibition of her lost maidenhead for too long though she promised herself she’d send men to suffocate Walder Frey with those sheets as soon as she was back home. 

Entering the great hall, Narcissa was surprised to see that many men were still breaking their fast. Exactly how many soldiers did Robb Stark have, she asked herself before noticing that the man himself was still eating next to her grandfather. Narcissa sat down on Robb’s left side, hoping to avoid seeing Walder Frey up close, not sure she’d be able to resist killing him right then if she did. She had had low expectations of him, and yet her grandfather had managed to disappoint her one last time. 

“Where have you been?” Robb asked her in an urgent whisper as soon as she was within earshot. “You weren’t there when I woke up.” He added, and Narcissa wasn’t quite sure whether he was concerned or angry. 

“Dealing with urgent matters, my lord.” She snapped before realizing the rudeness of her tone and Robb stiffed next to her. Narcissa only hoped that no one else had heard them. 

Together, the newlywed couple exited the keep and joined Robb’s men. She saw Lady Stark already waiting on her white horse, ready to march out. Yet, as her husband gave out the last orders to his men, she could feel that every pair of eyes were set on her but it wasn’t the kind of attention she enjoyed. They had all seen the bedsheets and she was quite sure that’s what they were thinking about when they looked at the new Lady Stark. 

Robb helped her mount her horse, a light brown mare. It seemed like he wanted to say something when Narcissa sat down side-saddle, but decided against it at the last moment and for that, she was grateful.

-/-/-/-

By the time Catelyn and Narcissa had crossed the Green Fork side by side, most of the soldiers were still on the other side of the bridge. She was in pain but if was not enough to ask to be helped off the horse. Everywhere she looked, all she could see were men riding horses and men walking on foot, and she doubted they’d want to wait up for her. 

“Have you ever been to the North?” Lady Catelyn asked, just loud enough to be heard by Narcissa. 

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” Narcissa replied honestly all the while keeping her eyes on her surroundings. Were they riding South or East, she wondered with worry, not recognizing the path. 

“It’s beautiful, you’ll see!” Lady Stark promised in a joyful tone, hoping her words would help her daughter-in-law relax. “When this is over, I’ll have to teach you how to run Winterfell,” she continued, startling Narcissa with her words though she didn’t let it show. “Ned promised we’d visit Riverrun more often once he felt Robb was ready to be in charge a few months at a time.”

Narcissa almost laughed before she managed to control herself just in time. A few months ago, his own father hadn’t thought him to be prepared to run Winterfell on his own and now, Robb Stark was leading an army to King’s Landing. Maybe her husband was as green as some whispered in the hallways. “I’m sure I’ll find Winterfell to my taste, Lady Catelyn,” Narcissa replied though she didn’t intend to ever set foot there. “Who usually does the bookkeeping?”

They rode for five days straight, just stopping to eat and sleep a few hours. Only a couple of tents were erected each night: One for the war council, and for Catelyn and Narcissa to sleep in. It seemed Robb preferred to be outside in the cold with his men though he stopped by often enough to make sure the two women were alright. 

By the end of day five, Narcissa had run out of sugar cubes for her horse because it seemed, Caramel as they called the mare, had a sweet tooth. At that point, she also felt she knew enough of Winterfell to paint on it a canvas and enough about the other Stark children to be their own mother. At first glance, Lady Catelyn might have seemed to be a rather reserved woman but she had chattered up Narcissa’s ears and the young woman was glad they wouldn’t share a tent tonight. 

Around her, camp was slowly being set up and the fact that no one had bothered telling her where she was, left her uneasy. But her worries were soon forgotten when she spotted a large dark wolf outside the council’s tent. 

“Aren’t you a good boy.” Narcissa cooed, gently approaching the beast. At first, the wolf seemed ready to launch at her but she carefully extended her hand and the animal took a few sniffs before adopting a friendlier posture. “Tell me, what’s your name?” She asked the animal, petting his head and scratching him behind the ears. 

“It’s Grey Wind.” Robb Stark answered and Narcissa abruptly turned her head to see him standing next to her. She made a quick mental note no to ride through the woods alone because she’d be killed within the hour. “It’s a dire wolf. I’ve had him since he was a pup.” Robb explained, before petting the animal himself. 

Lady Catelyn had thought necessary to tell her about all the different plants within the glass gardens in Winterfell, but had omitted the part about the dire wolf litter. Narcissa bit her tongue as to avoid laughing, her mother-in-law was rather peculiar when it came to her priorities. “So young, and already a father, my lord.” Narcissa joked before stepping back and observing the silent communication between Robb and Grey Wind. 

“I’m not his father.” Robb Stark chuckled warmly. “He is way to furry to be mine,” he added, a small smile on his lips before tapping the dire wolf’s side as if giving him his permission to leave and go do whatever dire wolves did in their free time. “Though I am looking forward to having children of my own.”

Narcissa’s stomach tightened at his words and she was glad her husband wasn’t directly facing her, or else he might have noticed the guilty look on her face. She reassured herself, knowing that she would be out of his way as soon as they reached King’s Landing and he’d be free to marry someone of his choosing. 

“I need to go back inside,” Robb announced, pointing at the council tent with his head. “But I thought we could maybe have dinner together later,” he suggested, a little unsure.

“That would please me very much, my lord,” she replied, hoping to sound indifferent so neither of them would hurt once she left.

“Great,” Robb briefed out with relief. “It’s settled then. Olyvar is by the armory if you want to pay him a visit.”

It took Narcissa a few minutes to find out who Olyvar was. She asked around discretely until one of the soldiers informed her that Olyvar was in fact Robb’s new squire. It then took her even longer to find out why her husband thought she’d like to talk to his squire. 

“You’re my uncle, then?” Narcissa asked suspiciously, eyeing the blonde boy up and down. She called him boy, though they were most likely around the same age. He nodded curtly, looking very innocent as he cleaned Robb’s armor. Narcissa knew better. “You won’t tell Robb my father is Cosimo de Medici, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” the boy replied though she wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Of course I don’t want you to!” Narcissa almost shouted, standing up from the barrel she had been sitting on. “Everyone in this goddamn continent hates my family! Calling us snobs and saying we all are uppity-like just because we condemn their silly wars and refuse to finance them.” 

“I won’t tell him then, my lady,” Olyvar promised but Narcissa knew best than to trust another Frey man just like that. 

“I’m sure you won’t,” Narcissa finally spoke, her voice serious again. “After all, you’d rather have gold around your neck then inside your throat.” She didn’t consider this a threat. She had had to say those words oftentimes and found out all men could be bought if you had enough money. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa was already waiting for him, a glass of wine in hand, when the tent’s flap opened and Robb Stark came in, looking rather gloomy with a deep crease between his brows. Inside the rather small tent, he appeared as large as ever, even without the thick cloak he was just shrugging off. 

“I apologize for my tardiness, Narcissa,” Robb breathed out, loosening up the first few laces of his leather doublet. “The council meeting took longer than expected.”

She observed him in silence, leaning back against her chair, a small smirk on her lips. She was amused, but she didn’t exactly know why. Perhaps because she was about to dine alone with her husband for the first time and didn’t even know him enough to strike up a conversation with him. Perhaps, also, because she was forced to supper in a tent in the middle of a war encampment when she could have been in Florence, sharing an opulent dinner in the patio with her father and his employees. Life was cruelly funny in its own way. 

“If you’re going to apologize each time your duties keep you away from me, you won’t have time to say much else,” she quipped when Robb sat down in front of her. He took a large sip of wine because even looking at the food. “War tactics are more important than this, my lord,” she clarified, resisting adding ‘whatever this is’ to her sentence. 

They ate in silence for the most part, almost glad that the outside noise entered their tent, avoiding an uncomfortable quietness in the process. Though when Narcissa finished her meal, there was a question she couldn’t resist asking and broke the silence. “Where are we, my lord?”

Robb looked up from his plate, appearing equally puzzled and amused as a few wild curls bounced on his temples. “In our tent,” he replied seriously through trying hard to suppress a grin. 

Narcissa however wasn’t able to hide her gaiety and started laughing. Showing her white teeth for a moment before hiding her mouth with her hand. Her eyes looked much livelier this way and much warmer too, Robb bemused, this time allowing himself to smile as well. “I meant geographically, my lord,” she said once she had calmed down enough to speak properly. “Though it’s nice to know my husband takes me for a dimwit,” the brunette continued with lighthearted sarcasm. 

“Southwest of The Twins.” Robb replied, his mood darkening again as if the subject was a touchy matter. Narcissa, however, silently started panicking at his words. She thought they were going to King’s Landing, why on Earth would Robb be heading West? She wanted to reach the Narrow Sea as soon as humanly possible, and now they were headed in the opposite direction.

“Why head West when your destination is King’s Landing?” Narcissa inquired, filling her glass with more wine, hoping it would give her sufficient patience not to raise her voice. 

Robb rubbed his forehead, pushing back his hair before suspiring deeply with chagrin. “That’s what the Lannisters expect us to do. I need to lift the siege to Riverrun before I can free my father,” he explained, though rather curious why a woman would be interested in such matters. 

Truly, up to now, Narcissa had given war tactics very little thought. There were dozens of books on it in the Medici library but they were covered in dust. Florence had been at peace for decades after all. “Why are you brooding then, if you have it all planned out, my lord?” She asked though what she really was interested in, was knowing how much more time they’d need to reach the East. 

“Because I’m sending two thousand men to their graves.” The words hung heavy in the air but it wasn’t until Narcissa cocked her eyebrow at him, that he decided to expand on the subject: The Lannister armies outnumbered them by far. The only way to go past them was to trick Tywin’s army into thinking the whole of the Stark forces were coming for them, so that he could take Jaime’s men by surprise and defeat them.

Narcissa didn’t know much about the ongoing war, mostly because she couldn’t have cared less about Westerosi problems just over a week ago. But now, everything had changed and she had been forced to take sides. 

Mathematically, Narcissa agreed with Robb’s decision. It was the smart thing to do, but lives meant more than some random numbers in a book and losing a single life, was one too many in Robb’s eyes. He was no barbarian, she ascertained with confidence, dropping her gaze almost ashamed she had ever thought that of him. 

“It’s the right to do, my lord,” she whispered, gently placing her hand over his on the table, almost certain he’d pull back and yet, he didn’t. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand before addressing her a weak smile. 

“I’d rather change the subject now, if you don’t mind,” Robb admitted, standing up and fetching them more wine from the small wooden barrel in their tent. “Tell me, what do you like to do for fun, Narcissa?”

“Drinking and napping, my lord,” she replied honestly for the first time. 

They spent almost an hour getting to know each other. It felt awkward, forced in a sense because even if they didn’t appreciate the other’s answers, there wasn’t the option to just leave. But Robb was easy-going enough and not an unpleasant company. He enjoyed sword-fighting like most men his age though he admitted he would probably take a short break once they returned home. 

The way in which he pronounced that word, slowly and with longing, as if it was a deity on its own. The end that justified all means and much to her surprise, she found herself agreeing with him. She longed for home as much as he did. “I’m certain you’ll like your new home,” Robb said after a short silence. “The bedrooms are warm and all the women find the glass gardens beautiful.”

His words hit her without warning. She realized that for all purposes, he now considered Winterfell to be their home, hers too and suddenly part of the kinship she had begun experiencing disappeared. “I hear Winterfell is humid and muddy.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Robb laughed, not noticing the change in her tone. “But it’s home.” 

Things became truly awkward, however, when it was time to call it a night and go to bed. They had been married for almost a week now, but had only shared a bed on their wedding night. 

Robb turned around respectfully when Narcissa started undressing, deciding to just get it done with. He had already seen her naked body and she wasn’t a particularly shy person to begin with. That didn’t mean she was particularly bold, either. “Do you want to, erm, do it again tonight, my lord?” She asked apprehensively, pulling a night shift over her body and hoping her blushing wouldn’t be visible in the dimly lit tent. 

She turned around to find her husband had been staring at her after all, an indescribable look on his face. He was bare chested and Narcissa figured out that was most likely how he slept. “Our wedding night was an obligation neither of us could circumvent,” Robb said in a serious tone as he walked to his side of the small bed, avoiding looking at her. “I’ll admit I enjoyed it but I’m never going to force myself on you, Narcissa. That I can promise you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of it? Please let me know!  
> I won’t be able to update tomorrow (Friday) because I have an exam on Saturday and actually need to study. I’ll do my best to post a new chapter Saturday evening, though!  
> Next chapter: Gambling, battle in the Whispering Wood and two drunk idiots.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I apologize for not having posted yesterday because I was super tired after taking the exam and I would like to thank everyone who has taken their time to comment. 
> 
> It would mean the world to me if you commented after reading! Not only as an encouragement to continue but also because I need to know what I’m doing right and what I’m doing wrong so that I can improve. So, please leave me some feedback!
> 
> And in the meantime, enjoy!
> 
> Chapter warning: Smut.

Narcissa looked around herself as she exited the tent. The sun was already high in the sky and the camp seemed to be buzzing with excitement and fear, though she couldn’t pinpoint where one emotion ended and the other began. A few men crossed her path, respectfully bowing their head at her and she couldn’t help thinking about was that come tomorrow, trying to remember all their face, knowing some of them would be dead for a cause she couldn’t believe to comprehend. 

She wondered what her father would do in her stead. Would he stay with Robb and travel with him to King’s Landing, or would he escape, and try making it on his own? Then she remembered her father didn’t know war and that his teachings wouldn’t be helpful this time. “He’d most likely be worrying about his finances and his family if he found himself stuck in Westeros,” Narcissa concluded, a hopeful smile on her face, knowing Cosimo would raise hell on Earth to get her back once he knew of her situation. 

“I was told you asked for me, Catelyn?” Narcissa announced her presence softly, walking inside a tent which only held women. There were about fifteen of them, it was more than she had even seen walking around camp. 

“I did,” Catelyn replied with a smile that only magnified the beauty of her cheekbones. “The men are getting ready for tomorrow. I was hoping you’d join us and help us mend their clothes?” 

Narcissa turned away from Catelyn to look at the other women and noticed they were all sitting next to candles, needles in hand. For a second she wondered why any man would bring their wives to war, only to quickly realize most of them were whores except for a handful of nurses. And then she noticed that all these women were looking at her expectantly, waiting for her reaction and she knew that refusing wasn’t exactly an option. 

“Of course!” Narcissa chanted, feigning delight as she took a seat in front of Catelyn. She picked up a needle from the table and proceeded to draw some thread through the eye, almost stabbing herself in the process. Silently, Narcissa lifted a grey shirt from the pile of clothes, hoping that it had been washed beforehand. 

It was not that she didn’t know how to sew. Amara had taken great pride in teaching her only daughter some abilities that she believed every respectful women of Westerosi descent should have. However, that had been years ago, and as soon as she had turned twelve, father had started taking her to the bank with him and she had all but forgotten her mother’s teachings. 

Hoping that no one would notice her uncertainty, Narcissa started mending the garment as best as she could though even a one-eyed cyclops would believe it had been done by a child. Around her, all the women were chatting with each other though Narcissa remained silent, needing to focus on her hands. And yet, she couldn’t keep her mind away from Piero and Gloria who were travelling alone in this dangerous times. Much to her surprise, she also caught herself thinking of Robb and couldn’t ignore the clenching of herself when she imagined him in the battlefield tomorrow. 

“My lady,” a woman said a little louder than the ambient noise and Narcissa turned her head to look at her. She had long dark hair and was wearing a white apron over her blue dress. “Would you like telling us about your childhood? We are all curious to know more about you.” Everyone but Catelyn nodded at her words, though all Narcissa could focus on was her accent. She knew that accent, it was from Volantis and she quietly wondered what the girl was doing so far from home before growing wary that in turn, she might recognize Narcissa’s accent.

Narcissa didn’t exactly feel like talking but everyone seemed eager to listen and Catelyn gave her an encouraging nod. She started telling lies after lies, worrying she wouldn’t be able to remember them later. Naturally, she tried to keep it as close to reality as possible, to minimize the risk of her tongue slipping, but for the most part, it was all fiction. She told them of late-night talks with her cousins, of jousting’s held in the garden during summer and of the sneaky bathing by the river shore. 

“Those are actually Robb’s.” Catelyn commented as Narcissa grabbed a pair of leather breeches from the pile and the young woman immediately froze. Robb was a lord, he was used to having seamstresses and he’d certainly notice the poor work she’d do. Panic surged in her but among all the women in the tent, she couldn’t very well refuse to mend her husband’s clothes in particular. 

The fabric was thicker and she was having a hard time puncturing the leather with the needle, especially since her ring kept getting tangled in the laces. Sighing with exasperation, Narcissa took off the jewelry before putting inside the pocket, making a mental note to retrieve it later. “That’s a very beautiful ring,” Catelyn commented, surprised by the size of the golden piece. “Does it have a meaning?” 

“My brother gifted it to me after he accidentally broke my finger during a silly fight,” Narcissa replied honestly, thinking of Lorenzo who was most likely currently lying in bed with a random woman back home. “He said it was an apology, but I know he only picked one this big to hide my crooked finger from father.” She carried on, lifting her hand to show Catelyn the unnatural bend in her right ring finger, trying to hide the nostalgia.

-/-/-/-

Narcissa was bored, incredibly so, though she was rather reluctant to admit it. After the sewing, Lady Catelyn had gone to the nearby woods to pray in silence. She had offered Narcissa to join her, but she had refused, feeling both that praying was rather intimate and that as a non-believer, she’d be intruding. 

Catelyn Stark prayed a lot, Narcissa soon discovered. She prayed for her son’s success in battle, for her daughters’ safety, for her husband’s release. It made Narcissa jealous, to be able to quench one’s fears by sharing them with an invisible presence. Instead, she was left to wander around the camp, worrying about all the things that could go wrong, both in Westeros and in Essos.   
The war camp was large and not very linear. Narcissa soon found myself walking around in circles, having gotten halfway through the camp during her walk. While Robb and his bannermen were still in council, finishing the last details for tomorrow, most of the other men were training outside with their swords.

It reminded Narcissa of that time, over four years ago, when she and her father had visited Braavos to make sure their shares in the Iron Bank were being wisely managed. (They weren’t: The Crown was in too much debt and father decided to sell their shares between any permanent damage was done.) Passing by the city at the same time was the Company of the Second Sons. In the two weeks she spent there, many not-so-subtle stares were shared between herself and Daario Naharis. She’d watch the sellswords train just to spend time with him. In that short period of time in Braavos, she even considered forgetting about the Thinkers and just travel across Essos with him as to never be away his lips ever again.   
Father wouldn’t be happy, not at all, but she was in love or at least believed to be. She told him about Daario and her father decided the three of them should talk. And then Daario opened his mouth, referring to her as his property, and the fairytale broke. Narcissa rode back to Florence, more determined than ever to take her vows.

She continued her walk through the encampment, some men stopping their activities a second to look at her and greet their lord’s wife. Almost without a warning, the sun had set and the grounds became more quiet, most men entering tents to have supper or go to bed early in preparation of the battle to come. Narcissa considered doing the same when she walked past an open tent and saw a handful of men by a wooden table, playing cards. 

“Would you mind if I joined you?” She asked sheepishly, afraid they wouldn’t welcome her intrusion. 

As soon as they recognized who she was, all the men stood up from their seats, looking uneasy and bowing slightly. “You’re very welcome to join us, my lady,” one of them finally said. He had ginger hair and freckles on his skin. Clive, his name was. 

They made space for her on the bench and she started shuffling the cards. The room was silent and Narcissa almost laughed at their apparent discomfort. “You may talk as if I weren’t here. I won’t cut your tongues if you let some curse words slip here and there,” she reassured the men and soon enough they were all drinking rum and sharing stories. 

Narcissa quickly found two out of the five men weren’t regular players. They were just partaking in it now to avoid thinking about what was to come the next day. The green-eyed one, however, was quite talented and she wondered if he also counted the cards in his head. 

“Aye, I don’t remember my first battle but I do remember the trip to the whorehouse afterwards.” One of them shared, pouring himself another glass of rum because realizing Narcissa’s cup was empty and filling it too. She was drinking more than her fair share, the liquid had stopped burning her throat a while ago and it just tasted like warm honey at this point. 

“You shouldn’t talk around the lady like that.” The eldest one hissed, pointedly looking at her as if she couldn’t hear him. 

“Walder Frey is my grandfather. I doubt any of you could offend me at this point.” Narcissa chirped in and the men laughed a little too loudly, alcohol warming their veins. 

“Why are you always winning, my lady?” Travis, the ones with the deep green eyes, commented as he wrote another x on the piece of paper behind ‘Stark’. “You must be cheating.” He said with amusement and something else Narcissa couldn’t name.

“I’m just using my head, something you don’t appear to have.” She replied mockingly though none of them appeared offended. 

They played some more, stopping just a few minutes so Clive could go fetch them more rum and close the tent to keep out the cold. At this point, Narcissa should have been back in her tent and in bed, but numbed with alcohol, she didn’t even realize how late it was. “Is it true that Robb Stark turns into a wolf at night?” The youngest one asked quietly mid-game before Travis smacked the back of his head. For a quick second, Narcissa wondered if he was even old enough to go to battle. 

“Yes, but only during a full moon.” She replied seriously and watched horror rise up in the boy’s eyes before he realized she was pranking him and everybody laughed at his expense. 

Suddenly, the tent opened only to reveal Robb Stark himself. “Speaking of the wolf,” Clive commented under his breath before rising up with the others and echoes of ‘my lord’ filled the room until Robb told them all to sit back down. 

“I went to our tent but you weren’t there. Had me walking through the entire camp looking for you, Narcissa.” Robb scolded her in front of everyone. She was might have felt patronized by his tone under different circumstances but tipsy as she was, she found it comforting that he worried about her. 

“I thought you were still in council, my lord, and since I was bored, I came here to play cards,” she explained, hoping not to slur her words but Robb only nodded gently. 

“Thank you for entertaining my wife,” he told the men genuinely and then lifted Narcissa off the bench without warning, before taking her spot and sitting her back down on his lap. It was the first time they had been so close since their wedding night and his action had surprised her but she didn’t complain. Though from the corner of her eyes, she spotted Clive glaring at them.

The game resumed and Robb was wise enough not to tell her which cards to play, instead resting his hand on his wife’s waist while observing the game. He stretched out his other arm over the table and took a sip of her cup. “Were you trying to get my wife drunk?” Robb asked accusatorily though Narcissa had smelled the alcohol in his own breath when he first approached her. 

“Aye! She was the one pouring her own rum,” the oldest one bellowed, making Narcissa blush. It was one thing to drink, it was a whole other thing to let her husband know she was wasted.

The game could have finished then but they decided to play one last round to settle between Narcissa or Clive as the winner. She leaned over the table to break the deck so that Felton could deal it, when she unmistakenly felt Robb’s manhood rise beneath her as she moved. She felt herself blushing once again but knew the men would think it was due to the rum. 

Throughout the last round, she found much enjoyment in moving unnecessarily just to listen to Robb gulping or hissing. Rather unfocused now, Narcissa ended up losing to Clive, though not by much. 

“Maybe next time,” he said apologetically, his green stare a little too intense. 

Narcissa and Robb left the tent, allowing the men to get some much needed rest. It was pitch black outside now and Robb had to pick up a torch to guide them back to their tent. She found herself rather relieved he had come looking for her because she would have gotten lost on her own. 

“I didn’t expect to find you there,” Robb admitted, walking next to Narcissa with her right tightly secured around his left one. 

“I enjoy gambling,” Narcissa said, liking her lips which the rum had dried out. “I was actually on a winning streak until you showed up and distracted me,” she pouted, not knowing Robb was gazing at her, wondering if she was always painfully beautiful like tonight. 

“If I’m not mistaken, it was the other way around, Narcissa.” Robb replied, her name sounding different between his drunken lips. Less elegant and more croaky and for the first time, she actually enjoyed the sound of her own name. 

“A lady would never do such a vile thing.” She said, feigning offence though she couldn’t keep herself from chuckling.

They reached their tent and she was surprised to find a small fire waiting for them. The perks of sharing a Lord’s tent, she concluded. Narcissa walked to the bed and pulled her shift from beneath the pillow before changing into her nightclothes. When she turned around, she found her husband sitting by the table, his doublet discarded, pouring himself another cup of wine. 

“Are you sure, that’s wise?” She inquired carefully, frowning. 

“You’ve had just as much as me this evening, if not more,” Robb witted, offering her a cup which she gladly accepted against her own better judgment. 

“Yes, but I’ll have the whole morning to regret it,” Narcissa pointed out with a tint of sarcasm but Robb’s lips didn’t pull up like she had expected. Without thinking, she came up behind him and brushed back his hair back before resting her hands on his shoulders. “Are you worried for tomorrow, Robb?” She inquired softly, massaging his shoulders, not realizing it was the first time she had addressed him by his name. 

Robb, however, noticed it and couldn’t deny the warmth that he suddenly felt at having his wife finally call him by his name. Almost like they had just reached a milestone in their couple, though in his mind he knew it had been the alcohol which had caused her tongue to slip. In the few times they had been together, Narcissa had always seemed conspicuously distant and uninvolved, like an otherworldly creature than only seemed to exist through a mirage. 

“Wouldn’t you be?” He murmured, eyes closed as he enjoyed the reassuring feeling of her fingers on his skin through the thin barrier of his shirt. It had been a long time since he’d last felt that sort of comfort.

“I suppose I would,” Narcissa admitted pensively. “But you are Robb Stark and stark means strong in Old German.” It was the first time she had thought about the etymology of his name, but now that she had, she found the meaning rather fitting even as she looked down and noticed that he was humming softly with his eyes closed.   
Robb Stark was very handsome, his head framed with wild brown curls that almost gave him a boyish look, and it was the first time she thought of him that way, not with her head, but with her belly. 

“You ought to come to bed, Robb,” she whispered, removing her hands from his shoulders and walking over to the bed. 

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to sleep and will just keep you awake,” Robb murmured, blue eyes half closed.

“I didn’t say anything about sleep,” Narcissa drawled with a boldness that only came with rum. 

Robb felt light-headed as he stared at his wife who was slowly undoing the first couple of buttons on her white chemise before letting the garment slide down her body and pile up at her feet on the ground. She looked just as he remembered from their wedding night, though her attitude was much different. 

Her body seemed like it had been molded after an hourglass by the Gods themselves and Robb couldn’t resist the temptation. He was barely conscious of having gotten up at all when he found himself standing tall in front of her, sliding a hand beneath her chin so that he could kiss her. He tasted the warm honey left back by the rum on her lips and couldn’t help groaning when he felt Narcissa’s hands undoing the laces of his breeches. 

She pulled back from his lips with all-knowing smirk, slowly backing to the bed and Robb followed her without question, though at this point, he might have followed her into the depths of the ocean without question either. 

Narcissa didn’t pull back when his hands roamed her body, didn’t stop him when his teeth nibbled on her hardened nipple. She moaned instead and it was the first time he had ever heard her do so, and what an arousing sound it was! Dark, carnal lust filled him as he placed kisses on every inch of skin and watched her squirm beneath him with desire, the aloofness that rarely ever left her presence now long gone. 

Robb’s hunger overpowered him, the friction of her lower body around his groin no longer enough. He wanted to feel her. No, he needed to feel her all around him. But then, memories from their first night flickered through his mind, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to stop, not wanting to hurt her again. He then felt Narcissa move beneath him, lifting her upper body until their foreheads touched and he couldn’t resist leering at her. She wasn’t afraid, the emotion in her eyes was an entirely different one. “I’m not scared, Robb,” Narcissa whispered against him and that was all the encouragement he had needed. 

He watched her back arch when he entered her, her eyes closed as her hands gripped the sheets. She was sinfully beautiful beneath him and he mentally thanked the Old Lords for having made her his. 

Robb had intent on keeping a slow place, wanting to prolong this moment as much as possible, wanting to engrave her breathless image into his memory but then she lifted her legs and trapped him between them. They gasped in unison at the new angle, the poised Narcissa long gone as she slid one hand beneath their bodies, desperate for more fiction and soon enough, Robb found himself cursing as his vision faded to black and he spilled inside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I didn’t manage to reach the Battle of the Whispering Wood this chapter so that will be on the next one, as well as some sad news that you all know are about to come!
> 
> Please leave me your comments!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello gals (guys?), it’s me again!
> 
> First, I wanted to apologize for the many spelling mistakes I just found in the previous chapter (I’m seriously embarrassed) and hope that there aren’t that many in this one.   
> Also, I wanted to thank you all for the comments on yesterday’s chapter! It truly means a lot to me :) 
> 
> You’ll see that I’ve included GoT song titles in this chapter. It’s because I feel they suit the mood I tried conveying and listening to them while reading those parts really improve the immersion into the story.

Narcissa woke up with the sunrays warming her skin and the urge to spew out the contents of her stomach. She leapt from the bed, immediately heading to the chamber pot and crouched in front of it. It burnt her throat and her stomach cramped, but she knew it was the price to pay for last night’s overindulgence. 

“My lady, are you alright?” A small voice asked, startling Narcissa who quickly turned her head around to look at the intruder. 

“What are you doing here?” She hissed, glaring at Olyvar as he covered his eyes with his hand. It was only then that she noticed she was still naked and quickly put on the first thing that came under her fingers, Robb’s bathrobe. “You can look now,” Narcissa sighed with irritation and Olyvar removed his hand only to show the blush on his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” She repeated quietly, still wary of her upset stomach. 

“It’s noon, my lady. Everyone was worried.” The blond boy explained, fidgeting nervously. It seemed her threat had stuck, Narcissa thought wryly until something more important rushed through her hazy mind. 

“Shit!” She blurted out without meaning to. “Lord Stark?”

“He left with his men at dawn.” Olyvar replied and Narcissa nodded quickly before throwing him out, needing to be alone. 

She had known the alcohol would take its toll but she never expected to wake up at noon feeling like shit. Robb Stark had ridden out to battle and she hadn’t even been there to see him off. Love or no love, she ought have been there and shown him she cared, told him she wished him to come back victorious and unharmed. Especially unharmed. 

Sighing at her own failure as a wife, Narcissa grabbed a clean dress from the trunk by the bed only to see a piece of paper folded in half on the mattress. 

Thank you for being there for me last night.  
I hope the rum is not making you suffer too much.   
I’ll be back soon,  
Your husband, Robb. 

The short message brought a silly grin to her lips. Preceptor Erasmus would have had a heart failure at his handwriting, but Narcissa loved the boyish carelessness of it, the negligent loops and the harsh lines.   
She had been so focused on the form, that it took her a few seconds to comprehend the meaning behind the words. Memories from the previous flashed back in her mind and Narcissa felt her cheeks burn up as she remembered what had caused the soreness between her legs. “Oh Gods, no.” She muttered mortified, recalling her suggestive behavior and pledging never to drink again, though she knew come dinner, she’d have forgotten all about it. 

Narcissa hoped the blush was gone when she finally exited the tent to go have lunch, a small pouch in hand. The camp was almost entirely empty and quiet, eerily so. She had only ever seen it filled with men, but now, there were no more than a dozen guards in her eyesight. The cooks had been kind enough to keep some warm soup for her and Narcissa only asked them for a cup of boiling water to brew her tea. The kitchen maid who brought her the cup told her that Catelyn was praying in her tent, had been doing so since the men had left hours ago. 

The young woman felt guilt overcome her as she drank her moon tea. She should have been keeping the poor woman company. Her mother-in-law had a husband accused of treachery by a boy king, her daughters were held prisoners in King’s Landing and now her oldest son was in battle. And instead of comforting the woman who had never been anything but kind to her, Narcissa had been sleeping off her hangover like some irresponsible child. 

Determined to make amends, Narcissa hurried through lunch and made her way through camp to Catelyn’s tent until she spotted another much larger tent. She bit her lips knowing she shouldn’t do it but a quick look around told her no one was looking, and no one needed to know. 

The council tent was just as big inside as it looked from the outside though it was crowded by the large wooden table in its center. Narcissa circled the table before sitting down on the chair at its head, Robb’s chair and for a moment she let herself imagine how it would feel like, what it would be like if she commanded the men around this table. “I’d probably have us all killed within a fortnight,” she concluded with sarcastic laughter become composing herself. Maybe if she had been raised in Westeros, she’d have known how to do it. But as her mother always said, you could reshape the world with ‘ifs’.* 

Narcissa grabbed a few sheets of paper from a nearby board and started copying the large map that covered the whole table, stopping only to look at the small wooden figurines that littered the spread of paper. Stags for the Baratheons, lions for the Lannisters and wolves for the Starks. She had learned that much talking with Catelyn, though never asking directly as not to show her lack of knowledge on Westerosi politics.

She stared at one of the wolves for a long time, thinking about Robb Stark with a faraway smile and worrying about his safety until she realized what was happening and put the figurine back in its place as if she had been burnt. Narcissa finished the drawings in a hurry and left the council tent, giving the wolf one last look. “I’m leaving Westeros as soon as possible,” she said firmly, trying to convince herself of it. She’d leave Westeros and there would be no more stags, no more lions and no more wolves. She’d be back in Florence and live in celibacy in the High Tower, surrounded with nothing but books and ideas. And peace. 

With the unreasonable feeling of having done something bad, Narcissa headed back to her tent and proceeded to hide the drawings beneath her gowns in the trunk before going to meet Catelyn. The older woman was on her knees, praying in front of what she now recognized as a prayer wheel in the faith of the Seven. Silently, she joined Catelyn on the floor who immediately grabbed her hand with so much affection it only made her ache for her own mother even more. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning for your son and for you,” Narcissa whispered when she felt the red-headed woman had stopped channeling the Gods. 

“You are here now,” Catelyn smiled, squeezing her hand once again in a comforting way only mothers knew how to do. “And as for Robb, he appeared very content this morning.” Lady Stark added teasingly and Narcissa felt more embarrassment in that single moment than anyone ought to feel in a lifetime. 

They remained together until the sound of blowing horns filled their ears and Catelyn rushed out of the tent like her life depended on it, dragging Narcissa along with her. Both women arrived at the edge of camp just in time to watch Robb Stark sneering at a man on his knees, a prisoner no doubt. 

Catelyn ran into her son’s arms as soon as he saw them and he hugged her back tightly, none of them caring about the blood on his armor staining her dress. Narcissa wished she could do the same, show affection so openly, but the Medici weren’t the warmest of people and above all, she wasn’t even supposed to feel any affection for him. But then, before she knew what was happening, she found herself in her husband’s embrace, pressed against his iron chest plate and realized she didn’t care about the blood either as he placed a kiss on her forehead before pulling back a few inches. 

His curls were wet, his cheeks were brown with dirt and he was covered in blood, but he was alright and that was all that truly mattered. “I’m happy you’ve come back to me victorious and unharmed,” Narcissa admitted before recognizing too much sentiment in her voice. “What I meant to say is that I’m too young to be a widow,” she quickly added but the harm was done and when she looked up again, Robb was smiling. 

“I know you care, Narcissa,” he chuckled before his hand disappeared inside his pocket and took out the ring she had entirely forgotten about. “Found this when I got dressed this morning,” Robb explained, giving the ring back to his wife. “The thought of you remained with me through the whole battle.” 

The innuendo wasn’t lost on her but she didn’t have time to dwell on his mischievous tone. Soon, all the men had gathered around of them, cheering. She felt incredibly out of place, but he didn’t let go of her hand and so she remained next to him on the hill facing the soldiers. 

Theon Greyjoy broke from the crowd and walked over to them. She saw Robb’s face darken, suddenly reminded of the ongoing war once again. “I sent two thousand men to their graves today,” he confessed to his friend, feeling the guilt consume him.

“The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice,” Theon replied, seemingly unbothered by the death of two thousand of his colleagues and his detachment didn’t go unnoticed by Narcissa. 

“Aye, but the dead won’t hear them,” Robb concluded gravely before looking down at his wife and at his mother, as if reminding himself whom had done it for. He then let go of Narcissa’s hand and stepped forward.  
“One victory does not make us conquerors,” Robb addressed the crowd.

“Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees?” He roared and everyone went silent. It was the first time Narcissa had seen him like this, like a true leader. They didn’t respect him just because of his name, but they saw in him a man worth following. 

Some of their enemies might have called him a green boy, but in that moment, staring at the large figure in front of her, Narcissa only saw a steadfast wolf. 

“This war is far from over!”

Nothing could have prepared Narcissa for what happened next. Although her husband’s speech had been a cautious one, the camp was soon filled with the chorus of men celebrating their victory. Everywhere she looked, barrels of wine were being opened and she wondered where all that had even come from. 

The night was merciful and they ate outside on large tables all pushed together as one. Catelyn was the only one who appeared glum. Narcissa knew without needing to ask that it was due to seeing the Kingslayer again. But wine flowed generously, bringing color to Catelyn’s cheeks again and by the end of the night, there was the ghost of a smile on the woman’s rosy lips.

Narcissa kept an eye on Robb as he drank with his soldiers, laughing loudly into the night, while she played cards with Travis and Clive, and a few others whose names she didn’t know. No one cared about winning, not that night. The important win had happened earlier, now there was just drunken joy. 

Out of nowhere, Robb appeared in front of Narcissa, cupping her face and kissing her lips, not caring about the audience. Despite her natural reluctance, she kissed him back, pleasantly surprised and just as surprisingly pleased by his display of affection, though she would never admit out loud. 

“What was that for?” She mouthed once their lips broke apart for air. 

“I am happy,” he said, smiling. 

-/-/-/- (A Lannister always pays his debts – Ramin Djawadi) -/-/-/-

Most of all, nothing prepared Narcissa for what happened three days later. For once, she had risen up early enough to break her fast with Robb. He was still emboldened by his tactical win at the Whispering Wood and the smile hadn’t left his face since the feast. If anything, it had only grown larger when they had retired to their tent to continue the celebration on their own as husband and wife. 

Every second Narcissa spent with him, she found herself growing fonder of him, of his smile, of the way he held her hand at any occasion, of the way he said her name. She had expected to hate her husband with all her might, instead, she now spent their time apart longing for him even though she knew deep down that their time together was counted.

He would soon be reunited with his family and so would she. Maybe one day he’d forgive her treason and they’d be friends, separated by the Narrow Sea. She didn’t want to betray him and leave him once they reached King’s Landing, but she belonged in Florence and her duty was to her city. Duty had to prevail above all else, it’s what kept the world together after all.

It was with an unmatched determination that Narcissa had scribbled away her notes on paper after calculating how much time they’d need to reach to reach the Capitol. They could be there in a fortnight, which Piero and Gloria must have been at Florence’s gates. 

She wanted to leave Robb with an explanation, something to let him know she had come to appreciate his company in their short time together and that she was sorry to leave him. To tell him she was certain he’d make another woman very happy someday and that he would be the best father Westeros had ever known. Most of all, she wanted to tell him that she would miss him dearly. 

Tears threatened her eyes but Narcissa willed herself not to cry. She was a Medici, forged in gold and gold didn’t cry and yet, as if to squash that statement, a single tear fell on the parchment, blurring the words. “Don’t be silly, Narcissa,” she whispered to herself, sniffing before quickly rubbing away any evidence of her weakness with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, a loud noise rang through the camp. Immediately, Narcissa rushed out of the tent to see what was going on. The men outside respectfully bowed their heads at her, echoes of ‘Lady Stark’ filling the air but the smiles had eventually vanished after three days and the laughter had died down. With a bad feeling in her gut, Narcissa marched over to the council tent, the soldiers parting a way in front of her. 

“They executed my father!” Robb’s howl soured through the air although she was still meters away from the tent. She stopped in her tracks by the entrance with a tight heart as she mentally prepared herself for what she would encounter. 

Narcissa stepped inside but hardly anyone seemed to take notice of her presence. All the eyes were on Robb as he kept on stabbing the wooden lion with a knife, over and over again, repeating those four words relentlessly. His voice appeared to be snuffing, cracking at the edges, as the anger turned into sadness, screams into cries, and Narcissa felt a surge of something powerful flow in her veins as she saw her husband on the verge of tears for the very first time. 

“Out!” She shouted loudly enough to scare herself but Robb didn’t flinch. At once, all the men turned to her but she only looked at the one who was at the opposite end of the room, leaning over the table and casting a shadow over the southernmost part of the map. “Everyone out!” She yelled again, and this time, they all stood and walked past her to exit the tent, no questions asked. 

Once alone with her husband, she found herself hesitant to approach him. He had married her to cross a bridge and bring back his father. What would he see now when he looked at her? Would there be resentment in his eyes when he looked at her, or just regret?

Slowly, Narcissa made her way around the table until she was close enough to touch him. She carefully rested her hand on his shoulder, feeling slightly reassured when he didn’t pull away from her. Robb was shaking beneath her touch and she stretched out her arm, covering his hand with hers over the blade. His palm was wet with blood, but he didn’t feel pain in that moment. “Let go of the knife, Robb,” she urged him softly, rubbing his shoulders through the leather. “You’re bleeding.” 

“They executed my father.” He repeated it again, as if he still could not believe it, only this time there was just sorrow in his voice. Narcissa carefully removed Robb’s fingers from the knife, one by one and then with a gush of sudden fury, she grabbed the lion and threw it away, over the table. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured gently, reaching back for his hand but he turned around to face her. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks stained with tears and the smile which had lasted three whole days was now gone. Before she could offer any comforting words, Robb fell to his knees in front of her, hugging her tightly as he cried against her belly. He only allowed himself to show emotion now, away from prying eyes and in the presence of his wife. 

They remained like this for what felt like an eternity, until his knees hurt and she could feel his tears on her skin through the fabric of her gown. Narcissa found herself gently brushing her hand through his hair, hoping to bring him some comfort though she knew nothing she did now could bring back Lord Eddard Stark. 

Looking down at her husband, Narcissa felt something she never had before. She found herself hating the Lannister boy with so much strength, she’d rip open his throat with her own teeth if he ever crossed her path. She’d feast on his flesh and drink his blood, with a red smile on her lips. And then she’d have his head put on a spike until the crows ate away all the skin and the muscles, and there was nothing left but a skull. 

It was only then, that she realized she was in love. Robb wasn’t the barbarian she had expected him to be. He had become her friend, her lover, her husband. Her family. He was the man who made sure her plate was full before he started eating, the one who listened eagerly whenever she felt like sharing snippets of her life and he was the one who brought a smile to her lips in times of war. She hated the Lannisters because they had hurt him, brought him to his knees and she would have them pay her their debt. 

Robb stood up again when there were no more tears left to cry. He looked at her with those mesmerizing eyes but they weren’t the same anymore. The blue had hardened into ice, and the innocence was gone. Catelyn would later say that she never saw her boy again after her husband died. 

“I will kill them all.” He promised, looking straight into his wife’s brown eyes. She was his kin now and he’d kill anyone who harmed or threatened to harm his family. If blood was the price to pay to keep them safe, then he’d pay it tenfold. “Every last one them. I will kill them all.”

In front of him, Narcissa wasn’t frightened by his words. “You’ll kill them all.” She asserted.

“I’ll kill them all,” he repeated.

“And you’ll rid the world of the Lannister name.”

-/-/-/- (King of the North – Ramin Djawadi) -/-/-/-

Nothing once more could have prepared Narcissa for what happened that night as they all drank outside under the moonlight reminiscing about Lord Eddard Stark. In front of her, Catelyn kept her eyes dry though evidence of past tears remained in the dark purple circles around them. The candles didn’t provide for much light, but it was enough to see that every man had grief written across their eyes. 

Robb had joined Catelyn in the woods after Narcissa had reminded him that his mother was suffering as much as he was, if not more. Mother and son then spent their day alone in the woods, sharing their grief. Narcissa hadn’t joined them, she felt she had no right to, never having met the fallen lord. Instead, she had passed her day glaring at the Kingslayer in his cell from afar with a twisted smile on her face. Watched him crawl around like a caged up lion, chains around his hands and feet. He was the cause of all of this and Narcissa had to keep reminding herself of Robb’s sisters in order to resist the temptation to kill Jaime Lannister and watch his pretty face turn grey. 

Around her, the men were now sharing their memories of Eddard Stark. Some had only met him once or twice, others had ridden to battle with him, a few had even attended his wedding with Catelyn at Riverrun. And none of them had a bad thing to say about him. 

Next to her, Robb was listening intently to each and every story, his hand comfortably resting on her thigh over the dress. The sadness, the anger, all that had vanished and he was stoic now, sitting with his back straight and his head held high. Narcissa glanced at him sideways every few seconds and wondered if this was all for show and if he was still weeping on the inside. 

But then the conversation turned and she found her skin erupting in goose bumps despite the thick cloak and Robb’s arm around her shoulders. It was as if her body knew what was about to happen before she did. 

“The proper course is clear,” a river lord shouted, drink in hand. “Pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his.”

“Renly is not the King.” Robb corrected him immediately, his voice sharp in the dark night. 

“You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord. He put your father to death.”

“That doesn’t make Renly king. He’s Robert’s youngest brother. If Bran can’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly cannot be king before Stannis.” 

It was most likely then that Narcissa knew with certainly what was about to happen. She desperately wanted to pull Robb away from what was to come, take him to their tent, or better even, bring him to Florence with her. But the rebellion had begun and they were sitting in the literal middle of it. 

“Do you mean to declare us for Stannis?”

“Renly is not right!” Someone shouted in the crowd though Narcissa couldn’t quite pinpoint where it had come from.

“My lords. My lords!” Lord Greatjon Umber roared loudly and the men quietened at once. “Here is what I say to these two Kings.” He spat on the ground and the audience cheered. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong!” Everyone laughed but Catelyn and Narcissa. The latter tried leaping forward to stop this but Robb’s grip on her thigh tightened and she stayed put. Did he want this? Was he aware of the consequences?

“Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to and now the Dragons are dead!” He drew his sword from the sheath and then pointed it at Robb. “There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to. The King in the North!” The Greatjon shouted before kneeing in front of her husband who stood up at once, tall and imposing with his armor and the thick furs. 

“I’ll have peace on those terms. They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too.” The river lord agreed. “The King in the North!” He screamed and his words thundered all around them. 

“Am I your brother, now and always?” Theon Greyjoy asked. 

“Now and always.” Robb confirmed solemnly.

“My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day until my last day.”

Choruses of ‘King in the North’ erupted in the night as every man drew their sword and kneed to Robb Stark. Narcissa shifted on her seat to glance at her mother-in-law only to find the older woman looked as scared as Narcissa herself did. Both knew what happened to kings. 

“Why don’t you just call yourself a king?” A fifteen years-old Narcissa asked her father as they left the Signoria after a successful vote. He held all the power in the city anyway, the least he could do was own up to it. 

“Kings have a tendency to lose their heads.” Cosimo replied nonchalantly, descending the stairs with grace. “I’d rather have mine on my shoulders than on a spike.”

Robb took her hand in his and pulled her upwards. Narcissa hesitantly complied, standing up though remaining much shorter than her husband. She looked into his eyes, hoping to see fear or at least wariness, but there was only stubborn determination. She tried to say something, warn him that his was stupid and reckless but before she could assemble the words, Robb spoke first. 

“The Queen in the North,” he announced before kissing her and she could only hope, that for once, her father had been wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the gloomy tone in this chapter didn’t scare you off, but I felt it suiting due to the events. 
> 
> I expect to be able to update quickly because I’ve decide to miss classes this week haha. 
> 
> English is not my first language and although I’ve grown comfortable reading in English, I still feel my writing shows my clumsiness with the language, and for that I apologize. 
> 
> Please keep the comments coming! They never fail to make me smile and I really need to because I watched the Red Wedding episode for the first today, and although I knew what was coming, boy, I did not expect to see Grey Wind’s head on Robb’s body.   
> I will certainly change that in this story!!!
> 
> * I don’t know if this makes sense in English. I translated it from the French saying “Avec des ‘si’ on refait le monde.” or the classic version, “Avec des ‘si’ on mettrait Paris en bouteille”.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is keeping up with story and sharing their thoughts with me. I really appreciate your feedback!
> 
> I’ve noticed some readers are becoming impatient with Narcissa’s indecisiveness but it will all soon unfold, I promise! Most of you won’t be happy with this chapter, though. Sorry. It’s rather plot-heavy and I feel like the scenes don’t follow each other smoothly, but the content is important. 
> 
> Hope you’ll still enjoy!

The tent was plunged in darkness and the night had brought silence to the camp. The past weeks had been filled with battles. Though successful, they still took their toll on the men and the incessant riding and travelling that had followed didn’t allow for much rest either. This was the first night in their new camp. Robb had promised his wife they’d rest for at least a few days before moving again.

“You woke me up”, Narcissa groaned with annoyance before turning her pillow around so she could lay her head on the cold side. 

“I’m sorry.” Robb chuckled, lying on his back as he stared at the tent’s ceiling. 

“What was so funny anyway that got you laughing in the middle of the night?” Narcissa inquired.

“I was dreaming.” He replied, and even with closed eyes, she knew he had that dumb boyish smile of his on his face. 

“Your unconscious seems to be a great comedian,” she sighed, before turning on herself so she could look at him in the darkness. Narcissa had been right, he was smiling. “What was it about?”

“I was dreaming of us in Winterfell,” he murmured and then turned to his side so he could look at his wife. Her hair was disheveled and she appeared to be losing the fight to keep her eyes open. 

“Is picturing the both of us in Winterfell that funny?” She whispered. Not even sleepiness could subdue her sarcasm and Robb had found himself loving that part of her. 

“You were running in the snow,” he susurrated and she felt his breath tingle on her cheeks. “Running after our son who had just escaped from your arms.” Narcissa’s eyes shot open at once, now truly paying attention before shoving his shoulder so he’d continue retelling the story. 

“And then you tripped on a loose stone in the courtyard and fell face first into the snow.” Robb deadpanned before he could no longer suppress his amusement and laughed.

Narcissa rolled her eyes with a groan, before turning on her other side once again, facing away from her husband. “You’re impossible, you know!”

“Aye, but you should have seen your face!” He teased, the image still fresh behind his eyelids. 

“Did you at least help me back up?”

“Yes.” Robb replied hesitantly after too much time had passed and Narcissa playfully kicked his legs with her foot. He immediately responded by sliding an arm beneath her waist and keeping her prisoner in his embrace, as she kept on fighting for freedom but he quickly manage to pin her legs beneath his own. “You know it’s treason to strike a king.” He murmured into her ear and now they laughed together, both finding that rule utterly ridiculous. 

“Anyway, your dream is highly unrealistic.” Narcissa said quietly, biting her lower lip and hoping he couldn’t see her discomfort. 

“And why is that?” Robb said teasingly against her neck before placing a kiss on the back of her shoulder.

Narcissa almost said the truth that night, but at the last moment, decided against it. Robb had been in low spirits for the past three weeks, still mourning his father’s death and then meeting with his bannermen for hours today, discussing how to establish the North as a free dominion. She wasn’t about to kill his joy the first time he’d smiled in weeks. “Because, dear husband, the only time I run, is from my problems.” 

Robb chuckled behind her, his breath tickling her skin gently before freeing her arms in order to let his hands roam her chest and slide between her tights. Robb had been so busy with his duties as a king and as a commander, he’d almost forgotten of his duties a husband. Yet now with his hands on her soft silky skin, he didn’t understand how he’d managed to be without her for so long. 

“Please stop,” Narcissa whispered quietly next to him, gently removing his hand from between her legs. 

“Don’t you want to make little princes and little princesses?” Robb asked huskily with a tint of amusement, hoping to coax her into it. 

Narcissa grabbed the hand she had previous pried away from her body and brought it to her lips to kiss it. “Not tonight, I’m too tired.” She murmured apologetically. 

Robb didn’t insist. Instead, he rested his hand on her waist and squirmed a little behind her before finding a comfortable position to sleep in. Within minutes, he was softly snoring behind her, fast asleep. She knew he was just as tired as she was, if not more though that hadn’t been the reason why she had refused. 

Narcissa had expected them to have reached King Landing a long time ago but instead they were still in the Riverlands. Eddard’s death had changed everything and they had had to abandon the idea of marching straight into the Capital. They should have parted ways long before the question of children could ever come up. She had never expected to spend so much time at Robb’s side, having to lie to him for so long and each day that passed would only make their inevitable parting harder. 

She woke up every morning a little less keen to leave him than the day before. But too much time had already gone by and she still hadn’t gotten any news of Gloria and Piero, hadn’t heard of her father in ages. Did he even know where she was? She knew she had to leave on her own, the sooner the better in order to minimize the heartbreak on both sides. 

She felt uncomfortable in his arms then, too warm of all sudden but it wasn’t only due to his unhuman body heat. It was guilt eating away at her soul and she had to keep telling herself he’d be okay once she was gone. He had his mother, and Catelyn was more comfort than anyone could hope for. Soon, he’d have his sisters too and before long, he’d be rejoined with his brothers in Winterfell and Robb would be so happy he’d forget all about her in an instant. She held on to that thought though it made her heart ache to think that before long she’d be nothing more than a faded memory to him. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa had intended to go to her tent after the game. She didn’t know whether Robb would be there already or if he was in for a long time in the council again. Since he had took on the title of king, Narcissa barely saw him during the day though she knew deep down it was for the best. For each more second they spent together, she was well aware she’d suffer ten more once they were apart. 

Without wanting to, her steps soon brought her to the edge of camp where Jaime Lannister’s pen was. Light was scarce in there but her eyes were getting used to the dimness and she had no trouble making out the Kingslayer in the dark. His neck was chained to the bars and he looked like a peasant who had walked under a sewer pipe. She found much enjoyment in seeing him like this though no smile crossed her face to show it. 

“Are you going to stare like that for much longer?” He spoke and she noticed he had turned his head to look at her. It was enjoyable to feel herself towering over him, but even after so much time, the arrogant smirk hadn’t left him. “I know I’m handsome, but it’s rude.”

Narcissa merely cocked her eyebrows and he went still once again. She didn’t know she wanted to say anything at all until the words left her mouth. “You don’t live up to your reputation.” Narcissa stated matter-of-factly, oddly poised though she hated this man with all her might. 

“My father, he’s the richest man in Westeros. You’ll be paid your own weight in gold if you let me go.” And there it was, the Lannister signature move by a Lannister himself. His voice might have been weak, but the green eyes still shone fiercely even after all these weeks spent as a captive. 

“The Lannisters really do shit gold,” Narcissa concluded with a short laugh before taking a golden flask from the inner face of her coat and throwing it inside the cell. “Your dry voice is unpleasant.”

Narcissa sat down on a wooden box and observed as Jaime jumped to the flask at once and drank all the wine it contained. He looked like animal, but then again, all men and women were animals in pretty clothes. “A woman with a sharp tongue who’s not interested in gold,” the Kingslayer commented once his thirst was quenched. He way eyeing her up and down, as if judging the worth of his opponent. “I know who you are.”

Internally, Narcissa felt herself flinch but on the outside, her face remained stoic. “Humor me, then.”

“You’re Narcissa de Medici. The girl from the inn my brother told me about. The only woman Tyrion showed interest in who wasn’t a whore.” Jaime smiled as if he had just discovered the truth behind the universe itself. Narcissa was actually surprised he hadn’t figured it out sooner, he knew her name and there were only so many Narcissas in Westeros after all. 

“And you find amusement in that?”

“I just never expected him to like a woman who resembles our father so much.” Narcissa looked down at the prisoner but couldn’t quite make out if the words had been meant as an insult or with respect. 

“I never expected a brother fucking his sister would start a war in which I would find myself become a queen, but here we are.” Jaime wanted to laugh, somehow amused by her choice of words but the stern look she addressed him made him sober up instantly. 

“If you hate me such, why did you come to see me?”

“Because despite our mutual hate, you and I want the same thing: Go to King’s Landing.”

-/-/-/-

She spent the next day attending to her usual tasks. She directed the cooks and made sure the prisoners were looked after. Narcissa was aware Robb was receiving many doubtful stares from his bannermen at his choice of keeping enemy soldiers as prisoners instead of executing them. She wondered if she’d do the same were she in his shoes, and she wasn’t quite sure that she would. Yes, it was merciful and truly honorable like Stark men always were, but practical it was not and that was the only way she had ever been taught to think. 

Narcissa arrived at the council tent panting after having hurried across the entire camp. She had only found out shortly ago that they were sending a messenger to King’s Landing and at those news, she had immediately run to her tent to write Tyrion a message. She was afraid Robb would already have sent off the messenger, but as she approached the council tent, she heard voices still coming from the inside.

“Third, Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to the dominion of the North. From this time until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom.” Robb spoke with confidence on the other side of the canvas and his council members immediately followed with a chorus of ‘the King in the North’. 

“Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall set foot in our lands again. If he disregards this command, he shall suffer the same fate as my father. Only, I don’t need a servant to do my beheading for me.” Robb spoke fiercely.

“These are, your grace, these are,” Alton Lannister stuttered. 

“These are my terms. If the Queen Regent and her son meet them, I’ll give them peace. If not, I will litter the South with Lannister dead.” Narcissa became so entranced by her husband’s assertive tone she would have fallen down if the wooden pole hadn’t been there to keep her upright. Listening to him speak like that, her thoughts had drifted to very intimate and inappropriate musings, and her skin was warming up.

“King Joffrey is a Baratheon.” The Lannister messenger said hesitantly. 

“Oh, is he?”

She was still so inflamed by her husband’s tone, she almost missed Alton Lannister exiting the tent but managed to grab the back of his jacket just in time and dragged him into the darkness. 

“You will give this letter to your cousin, Tyrion.” Narcissa instructed the messenger as she handed him the roll of paper. 

“Whom from should I say it is?” The blonde man asked as he accepted the letter. Narcissa was glad he didn’t know who she was.

“An old friend from the inn.”

Narcissa watched the Lannister man disappear before she made her way across the sinews alleys of the camp to their tent, hoping to find her husband in there so she could have her way with him, possibly for the last time. She reached the canvas shelter and noticed candles were burning inside. With a smirk, Narcissa opened the flap and stepped inside, just about to say something suggestive when she noticed her husband wasn’t alone. 

Catelyn was the first to notice her presence and the red-haired woman sighed with relief, hoping his wife at least would be able to knock some sense into her son’s head. “Robb wants to send Theon North so he can get Balon Greyjoy’s fleet,” Catelyn complained with exasperation before both mother and son turned to look at her expectantly, awaiting her opinion. 

“Theon might be your friend, Robb, but he’s a little rat and I don’t trust him,” Narcissa replied curtly before heading to the table and pouring herself a large cup of wine. She exhaled discretely, leaning her back against the post. She had intended to have her way with her husband, and now she found herself in the middle of an argument. 

“If I trade the Kingslayer for two girls, my Bannermen will string me up by my feet.” Robb told his mother through clenched teeth.

“You want to leave Sansa in the Queen’s hands?” Catelyn blurted out with incredulity, shaking her head as Robb looked at his feet. Narcissa knew he deeply respected his mother, and going against her wishes was never easy for him. “And Aria? I haven’t heard a word about Aria. What are we fighting for if not for them?”

“It’s more complicated than that, you know it is!” Robb shouted and silence followed, burying the tent. 

Narcissa poured herself more wine. She didn’t knew what to add to the conversation, she wasn’t even sure she was welcome to. Yes, she was the Queen now, but she had found that her daily life hadn’t changed much with the new title. Maybe if they had been in castle, yes, but here in a war camp? She wouldn’t know where to start even if Robb’s men were to follow her orders, which she seriously doubted. 

Catelyn looked down with a sigh before sitting on a wooden stool. “It’s time for me to go home,” Catelyn eventually said and Narcissa almost choked on her drink. “I haven’t seen Bran or Rickon in months. And you have your wife now.”

Narcissa’s thoughts became hysterical though much to her surprise, it wasn’t visible on the outside. She couldn’t let that happen, Catelyn had to remain. It was one thing is she left Robb, it was a whole other thing if they both left him. That would just be cruel. 

“You can’t go to Winterfell,” Robb objected softly and Narcissa wholeheartedly agreed though she remained quiet. 

“Beg your pardon?” Catelyn exclaimed with raised eyebrows, stopping dead in her tracks. 

“I’ll send Rodrick to watch over the boys,” he decided and Narcissa found herself nodding in agreement with her husband, walking over to him and placing her hand on his shoulder, showing support. “Tomorrow, you will ride South to the Stormlands.” 

This time, she did choke on the wine and Robb immediately turned to her with worry, ready to help but Narcissa motioned him not too. She moved away and coughed up the wine on a napkin as Catelyn and Robb continued arguing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Narcissa thought with panic. Catelyn couldn’t leave.

“Why in the name of all the gods would-”

“Because I need you to negotiate with Renly Baratheon. He’s rallied an army of a hundred thousand.” Robb explained sternly, rubbing his temples. “You know him, you know his family.”

“I haven’t seen Renly since he was a boy. You have a hundred other lords.” Catelyn protested loudly and Narcissa wondered if she was about to yell at her son.

“Which of these lords do I trust more than you?” Robb argued, standing up and walking over to his mother. “If Renly sides with us, we’ll outnumber them two to one. We’ll get the girls back and we’ll all go home. For good.” Robb hugged his mother, but he kept his eyes on Narcissa who was having a hard time trying not to flinch. 

“I will ride at first light.” Catelyn finally conceded, hugging her son back who used their height difference to place a kiss on her forehead. 

“We’ll all be together again soon, I promise.” 

“You’ve done so well. Your father would be proud.” Catelyn murmured as she stared at her son’s eyes with motherly affection and Narcissa saw Robb’s jaw twitch from the corner of her eyes. If Catelyn’s absence was temporary, then she could accept it.

“Send Renly my regards.” He called after his mother when she about to leave the tent. 

“King Renly. There is a king in every corner now.”

Robb stood still, looking at the spot Catelyn had disappeared from with a sense of guilt. He hadn’t intended to speak this harshly to his mother but if he had the Greyjoy’s fleet and Renly’s men, there was nothing stopping him from winning this war. 

When Robb turned around, Narcissa was already getting undressed for the night. He watched as the dark gown slid down her body and revealed her back to him. He couldn’t help notice with a smirk that it was rather defined for a woman’s, but then, Narcissa was also stronger than most women. 

He approached his wife slowly before hugging her from behind and was surprised at the coldness of her skin. “I saw the look on your face when you entered the tent,” Robb whispered into her ear, brushing back her hair.

Narcissa smirked, leaning her body back against his and she was pleased to find she wasn’t the only one who was worked up. “And what look was that?” She purred, tilting her head back to expose her throat to him.

“The one of a wanton wife.” Robb smiled against her skin. 

-/-/-/-

“I heard my husband visited you two nights ago,” Narcissa stated matter-of-factly, announcing her presence to Jaime Lannister. 

“He did.” Jamie confirmed as she handed him some water through the openings of his pen. “Though I have to say I much prefer your company.”

Narcissa chuckled drily at the comment before sitting down on one of the boxes again. “I take it you will find it in yourself to travel me then.”

“Indeed, I think I will.”

She had him explain her way to King’s Landing then, writing down all the villages they would come across during their travel on a small piece of paper. Jaime had been wary to share this information with her but she told it was her guarantee in case he decided to leave her stranded along the way. Jaime complied, understanding the woman’s caution before making a list of the supplies they would need: Food, water, horses, a sword and an armor for him. Narcissa wrote it all down carefully before folding the paper and hiding it inside her bodice. 

“How do I know you’ll even get the keys to set me free?” Jaime asked suspiciously when she had stood up, ready to depart. 

“I sleep in the King’s tent,” Narcissa replied curtly. “I’ll come for you on the third night. Be ready.” 

She spent the next couple of days gathering up the supplies, discretely enough so no one would notice. The most difficult part would be leaving on horseback without anyone seeing her but over the past few weeks, Carmel and her had bonded sufficiently for Narcissa to be sure the horse would follow her orders with no resistance. 

In the end, the hardest part in her plan was the one which on paper seemed the least difficult. And yet, when Narcissa carefully released herself from her husband’s arms on the second night, she had to fight back the tears. She knew he wouldn’t wake up, he was a heavy sleeper Narcissa thought with a sad smile. Did she want him to wake up and tell her to stay?

He looked so peaceful when he slept, younger and carefree in a halo of auburn curls. Catelyn had told Narcissa just before departing to the Stormlands that war had melted all the softness from his face and left him hard and lean. She had found herself agreeing with her mother-by-law, Robb’s face had toughened since his father’s death and he had become king. Even Narcissa who hadn’t known him before the war noticed the change. He spoke to his men with confidence and inspired cold respect. Though all that vanished when he joined her in their tent in the evenings and took off the armor. Beneath the steel, Robb was the kindest and most affectionate husband.

Tears glided down her pale cheeks as she fastened the long coat around her shoulders, but she kept her eyes on him, wanting his sleeping image to never leave with her memory. It was with a heavy heart that Narcissa placed the letter on the desk and exited the warmth of the shelter.

She mounted her horse, hoping not to have packed too heavily for the poor animal and rode away from camp, forcing herself not to look back. Travelling alone scared her but she’d rather face those fears than go behind Robb Stark’s back and free his prisoner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this looks bad but I promise you it will be fixed in the chapter. Please bear with me! 
> 
> I do have a question for you: Would you prefer I keep this story relatively short or should I write beyond what's included in the show (things that happen between episodes) and make this a full-length story? Let me know. 
> 
> New chapter on Thursday! Until then, eat all your veggies.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon!
> 
> I rewrote this chapter half a dozen times to the point where I even have a complete alternative version of the ending. I found this chapter very difficult to write due to the chapter actually being one single scene (of 5000 words!), but mainly because it was difficult not to make Robb OOC (he didn’t have much screen time in the show to get to know him well) and I’m not quite sure if I’ve succeeded in that. Let me know!
> 
> Also, I just realized I write lots of dialogue :O

“Do you know what, Carmel?” Narcissa commented pensively as she read through her notes on horseback. They weren’t riding fast, she didn’t want to tire the horse out so soon and most of all, her head started to turn when she tried reading while riding fast. There was also the fact that for some reason, she wasn’t as excited to go home as she had thought. “I think the Kingslayer fucked us over.” She added with a dry laugh.

They had ridden through the whole night and they had not encountered a single one of the villages Jaime had told her about. In fact, they hadn’t come across much but endless meadows and rocky fields. She wasn’t particularly surprised, Narcissa had half expected the Lannister would lie and that was why she had brought her copies of Robb’s map with her. 

“Let’s stop for a break.” She ordered the mare, spotting a stream nearby. Narcissa needed to observe the sun to figure out the direction. She looked up at the bright sky, the sunrays blinding her but she didn’t cry. She had cried out all her tears during the night, and her eyes were dry now. Painfully so. 

-/-/-/-

“I want scouts riding out in all directions!” Robb shouted loudly, and the council members winced a little at the sudden noise. “She cannot have gone far in just a few hours.” He told himself, as his fingers traced the vastness of the Westerlands. They were in enemy territory, the Westerlands were ruled by the Lannisters and so far, they only controlled a couple of villages located at the border with the Riverlands. 

“With all due respect, you Grace,” Roose Bolton objected though his tone was far from respectful. “We cannot be splitting up our forces just to find your whimsical wife.”

Robb slowly turned away from the map to look at the lord who had just defied him, but the older man remained impassive which only managed to anger him further. His father had always had a hard time trusting the Boltons, even going as far as to compare them to savage beasts given their habit of flaying their enemies. “She is not just my wife. She is your Queen and you’d do well to remember that.” Robb Stark hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at the man until Bolton averted his gaze. 

“I want the scouts ready to ride out in half an hour!” He ordered before rushing out of the tent, already needing some fresh air even though he hadn’t been up for long. 

Robb had woken up at the first rays of sunlight and just like he did every morning, he had turned to lay on his side to gaze at his wife for a few more minutes. Narcissa was a late sleeper and a night owl, and he enjoyed those few silent moments in the morning when the sunlight fell on her sleeping body, casting dancing shadows on her skin as the clouds moved in the sky. She looked very peaceful and serene then, and nothing in her appearance hinted at the strong temperament that resurfaced when she woke up. His wife was small, her feet rested at his knees’ height when they lied next to each other, and her skin was delicate and alabaster-like, but Robb had come to learn that her fragile looks were merely an illusion. 

Had they been given the choice, they would never have ended up married to each other. Narcissa had admitted to him during supper once that she hadn’t ever really considered marrying at all, in the present or in the future. Robb knew she would not have gotten her way, even if she hadn’t been involved in the deal for the bridge. Highborn and alluring as she was, Walder Frey wouldn’t have had any trouble finding her a good match, quite the opposite.

He himself wasn’t sure he would have chosen her for a wife either. Growing up relatively good-looking and as the heir to Winterfell, girls had started fawning over him at an early age. And once he became an adolescent, he had started enjoying the female attention and what came with it. Most likely he would have a married a beautiful and bland lady that would blush every time he just as much looked at her and who would be more than glad to be his.

Instead, he had married Narcissa. Her aloofness had subdued somewhat in the past few weeks but not once had he caught her seeking his attention or engaging in flattery. She didn’t even have to. It had been the other way around. She didn’t seduce him, he seduced her and he had been quite surprised to discover that she replied better to a playful banter over supper than to gifts of jewelry. 

Back at the Twins, his mother told him how her marriage to his father had been arranged for political reasons too, but that despite all that, they had managed to build affection and even love over time. “Give the poor girl a chance,” Catelyn whispered into his ear just before he had spotted Narcissa walk down the path to the heart tree. She had looked ethereal then, elegantly out of place in the middle of the forest and Robb hadn’t found it difficult to give her a chance. And he was glad he did.

But as he now moved to look at her, he was surprised to find that he was alone in bed. In her stead lay nothing more than a feather pillow. He sat up at once, scanning the room only to find a carefully folded letter written in elegant calligraphy sitting on his desk. At first, Robb had expected to find some loving words but as he read through the lines, incomprehension washed over him until he read the final words – Goodbye Robb and do farewell – and vexation took over. 

He had won all the battles so far and yet, all the rest in his life was crumbling. His sisters were still in King’s Landing, he was forced to send his most loyal friend away in order to get the ships he desperately needed and his mother was negotiating with a potential ally he didn’t even want in the first place. Now on top of it all, Narcissa had deserted him in the middle of the night. How was he supposed to be a good king if he wasn’t even able to keep an eye on his wife. 

Robb felt the stares of his men dig into his back as he walked past them. Word travelled fast around camp and the fact that he had asked to round-up volunteers didn’t help keep it quiet either. He marched over to the scouts faking a confident mine though internally, he was in a state of turmoil. Mounting his black horse, he promised his men that whoever found Narcissa and brought her back to him safe and sound, would be generously compensated. All the scouts nodded in unison in the restraints of their armors and Robb wasn’t surprised to find her usual card games companions had volunteered to go and look for her. 

He was ready to send them off when two soldiers came rushing to him. “Your Grace,” a young soldiers panted, out of breath after running through camp. “This one says he can help you.”

Robb looked down at the filthy Lannister with disdain but motioned for him to speak nonetheless. “And how would you be of help?”

“I can tell you where that lying whore of yours went.” Jaime Lannister spat out. 

-/-/-/- 

The mountainous path slowed her down, but that didn’t diminish Narcissa’s pride at having been able to figure out Jaime’s trick so soon. It was midday, her stomach was quick to remind her of that and she bent down to grab an apple from the satchel. She had plucked it earlier, tall enough on horseback to reach the branches of the high tree and Carmel had enjoyed the fruits too. 

The sword strapped to her back was beginning to hurt her shoulders but she decided against discarding it. Jaime was most likely right on the usefulness of having a weapon even if she was barely able to hold it steady with one hand, let alone wield it properly. Narcissa knew she would be nothing more than a deadweight in a battlefield but then, the glimpse of an idea crossed her thoughts. Robb had never lost a battle so far, and yet he was no closer to defeating the Lannisters and getting his sisters back. Maybe, it wasn’t on the battlegrounds with swords that you won a war, Narcissa mused thoughtfully. Perhaps wars were won in exchanges of hushed voices in narrow alleys in the darkness of the night. 

“Stop.” Narcissa urged the horse who immediately complied. Two men were walking in her direction though they hadn’t noticed her yet. Squinting her eyes, Narcissa recognized the red chest plate of the Lannister armor and concluded that they were most likely soldiers sent out to spy on Robb’s army. 

For a quick second, she thought about leaving the trail and heading into the woods but before she could make the decision, the men had spotted her and it was too late. Narcissa took a few deep breaths before continuing to ride as if they weren’t there. Mutual avoidance was a bliss and she hoped they’d share her opinion on that. 

“And what is a lady doing all alone out here?” The tallest one jested, gesturing at their surroundings as the smallest one rudely grabbed Carmel’s reins. Narcissa had expected to find some unpleasant company along the road, but none quite so open about it. 

“Exercising my right of innocent passage, obviously,” Narcissa replied through gritted teeth before trying to pull the reins back to her but the man resisted and Carmel neighed in protest, growing tense. 

“A fancy lady with fancy words.” The tallest one sneered with amusement looking at his friend with a wink. “We’ve been walking for hours, I think we deserve a treat.” 

Narcissa was focused on the short man’s ugly laugh when she felt a hand grab her calf, hoping to force her down the horse. Almost on instinct though with little grace, Narcissa drew the sword from the sheath on her back and pointed it at tall soldier’s throat. Immediately, the shorter one took out his own sword and Narcissa panicked internally. One man she might have been able to outthink and overpower, but two?

“Do you even know how to use that?” The first soldier snarled though she could sense the fear in his words as the tip of her sword grazed over his throat and a fine red line appeared. Damn, that thing was sharp, Narcissa discovered with shock but realized bluffing was her only way out of this mess. 

“Do you really want to find out?” She said daringly, cocking her brows. 

She had braced herself for an attack when the soldiers collapsed in front of her, falling to the ground with an arrow sticking out the back of his head. Carmel panicked and jerked suddenly, almost throwing Narcissa off as the remaining soldier let go of the reins at once. Narcissa quickly scanned her surroundings with fright until her eyes fell upon Clive, bow in hand and ready to shoot another arrow through the second soldier’s head as well. 

“Don’t!” Narcissa screamed out, and Clive stilled for a second before turning his head right. Narcissa did the same only to find Robb on his black horse, flanked by two other members of his cavalry. She tried to make out his expression but he was too far away and her eyesight was worn out by too many reading sessions late into the night. “He’s a Lannister spy! You should bring him to camp and question him!” To her surprise, her throat wasn’t as dry as she had expected and her voice carried over to them. 

“Tie him up!” Robb ordered Clive who immediately jumped off his horse and walked over to her. The Lannister soldier was shaking, holding his hands up in the air and babbling words she couldn’t make out. She would have pitied him if he hadn’t wanted to subjugate her just a few minutes earlier.

Narcissa tried to catch Clive’s eyes when he had restrained the Lannister soldier but it was as if he was purposefully avoiding eye contact. This made Narcissa grow increasingly uneasy as she slowly came to terms with was happening. If her friend couldn’t even bear to look her in the eye now, she didn’t dare imagine Robb’s reaction. Clive left with the new prisoner without saying a word, dragging him over to his horse and fastening the rope to his waist so the short man couldn’t try to escape. 

“Go on!” Robb ordered his men and slowly, she listened to the trotting noises of the horses fade away. 

She stayed put on her horse, facing away from him but she sensed him approach, heard the his stallion’s hooves on the soil as the distance between them melted away. Soon however, she felt him come to a stop behind her and then everything was silent but for the leaves blowing in the wind around them. Narcissa knew he was looking at her, she was almost certain she could feel his stare on her back but he didn’t say anything for so long, she wondered if he was really there or if she had just been imagining it. Did she want to imagine it?

“Come Narcissa.” Robb finally spoke and Narcissa tried to find the anger in his voice but his tone was unreadable. “We need to go now if we are to reach the camp before nightfall.”

Narcissa gulped and looked down at the stony ground. She had expected him to be furious but this was worse. His voice was cold and she couldn’t detect any emotion. “I can explain.” Her voice had come out so weak, she doubted he’d even hear it. 

“We’ll have time for taking later,” Robb replied curtly with growing impatience and Narcissa bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood in her mouth. 

“I can’t go-”

“Narcissa, we are at war and each second we spent out here in the open, we risk being attacked.” 

His tone was firm, just like it had been when he gave out orders to Alton Lannister a few nights ago. But that is not why Narcissa turned her horse around. It was not how he said it, it was what he said. He was a king in enemy territory and she was putting him in danger the longer she kept him waiting for her. 

Robb waited until she was at his side and then they rode back together, following the three soldiers who led the way. They advanced silently, side by side, for hours but she never dared look up at him, instead keeping her eyes on the road. 

Many thoughts crossed her mind as the sun descended lower in the sky and its rays no longer warmed her back. She wondered if she ought to apologize then, while they were still separated by a few feet, each one on their horse and she could look away if she was too weak to stare at the hatred in his eyes. After giving it much thought, she decided against it. What she had done was despicable, no doubt there, but she still believed her reasons for doing it were right and she still had to go home even if only to see her mother one last time. 

“How did you find me?” Narcissa asked before even realizing that words had left her mouth. 

“Jaime Lannister told us everything.” Robb replied, and just like his wife, he kept on looking straight ahead. Marching out with the scouts, he had expected to feel nothing but hatred when he set his eyes on her again. Instead, he had seen a man touch his wife without her permission, and his blood had boiled. Despite what she had done, his first instinct had been to protect her and instead of hating her, he hated himself for it. 

“Took you rather long to find me then, considering you knew exactly where I was going.” Narcissa pointed out snidely, recognizing the rudeness in her own voice but hoping it would hide her conflictual feelings. 

Much to her surprise, she suddenly heard Robb chuckle next to her but the sound stopped just as abruptly. “You went West instead of East.” He said flatly before looking at her for the first time that day. Her hair was uncharacteristically covered with a veil that only just revealed her face which remained poised like always. Though focusing on her cheekbones, he knew her jaw was clenched. “You were headed to Casterly Rock instead of King’s Landing.” 

“How did you know I would get lost?” Narcissa inquired quietly, the offense obvious in her voice. 

“Because you get lost walking up to our tent each time we set up a new camp.” Robb pointed out and she was almost sure she had spotted the ghost of a smile on his face before it vanished in his otherwise stoic expression. Narcissa had been offended at first but even her pride couldn’t make her deny the truth in that statement – She did get lost frequently. “Your lack of orientation, that’s really one of your two shortcomings.”

“What’s my first one then?”

“Your inability to be honest with me.” 

The words stung more than she was willing to admit but she reckoned she deserved them all the same and didn’t press the subject. They rode for hours with very little breaks but still, they didn’t manage to reach camp before nightfall and she noticed Robb and the men become anxious at that. Maybe riding out alone in times of war wasn’t such a smart idea after all, Narcissa admitted to herself. If even trained soldiers were wary to do so, she never even stood a chance to make it to King’s Landing on her own. 

The war camp was alit with small fires when they arrived. Night had set in already, but it wasn’t that late and Narcissa realized she had indeed been riding in circles in they had managed to get back to camp so quickly, to the point where she really felt embarrassed at her foolishness. 

Soldiers greeted the party of five at the edge of camp and two men helped their Queen for her horse but didn’t move aside once her feet were securely on the floor. Most men were glaring at her, their despise barely hidden from their faces and she knew she wouldn’t be very popular around camp now. Robb appeared next to her suddenly and wrapped his arm around her waist though she knew better than to assume it was with affection. Most likely, he believed she was bold enough to try running away again despite all eyes being on her.

“What are you going to do with him?” Narcissa said softly so that only Robb would her. In front of her, Jaime Lannister was being dragged away from his pen by two men. Suddenly the prisoner turned his head and she was sure he recognized her even with the veil for the hatred in his eyes chilled her to her bones. Was there anyone in Westeros who didn’t hate her at this point?

“As a reward for helping us find you, he’ll be offered better accommodation.” Robb answered with no particular emotion. Narcissa noted drily that helping her still had benefitted Jaime in some way. He wasn’t free, but he wouldn’t be sleeping outside in a pen anymore. 

Robb halted in front of their tent and pulled open the flap so she would enter. He followed her in but the two guards remained put by the entrance. Narcissa found it exaggerated and ridiculous but didn’t point it out. 

“I didn’t expect we’d share a tent after this,” she commented more to herself than anything else, walking over to the small mirror on the desk and removing her veil. Through the reflection, she noticed Robb was staring at her while struggling to take off the armor by himself. 

“This is not a fancy castle and there is not an unlimited supply of tents,” Robb sighed with annoyance but Narcissa didn’t take offense in his tone. Instead, she walked over to him and started undoing the clasps on his pauldrons. He had intended to pull away from her but she had been too quick and he wasn’t able to take them off on his own and needed her help. Robb stared down at the her, at the way her hands swiftly unfastened the holdings on his shoulders and couldn’t put off asking the question that had been burning his tongue since he had found their tent empty in the morning. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

Narcissa grabbed the pauldrons and walked away to put them in his trunk. “Tell me, what do you think of my family?” She said, almost tauntingly. 

“Your family refused my father a loan during the past winter. Thousands of Northerners died because they couldn’t afford to buy crops from the Reach before the cold set in.” Robb spat out but she didn’t flinch. She had expected this reaction and it was why she had withheld the information from him in the first place. Every lord in Westeros had been denied loans by her father in the past, with more or less dire consequences for their prosperity and they took it personally.

Narcissa walked back to him and helped him take off his chest plate. The clasps were on the back and he couldn’t reach them himself. It had actually become a habit: Olyvar would help him into his armor in the mornings and she helped him out of it in the evenings. “I wouldn’t have held you accountable for your father’s actions,” Robb confessed, shrugging out the rest of the plate and moving away from her. 

Behind him, Narcissa chuckled crisply before walking over to the table and pouring herself some wine. “I would have done the same thing he did,” Narcissa confessed, bringing the goblet to her lips. “There was no guarantee your father would be able to pay it back within reasonable time. It wouldn’t have been a wise business decision to agree to it.” She looked up from her drink to find Robb was glaring at her with daze though it went beyond that. “That is how I was taught to think my whole life. Though I now admit I will be looking at things differently once I get back.” 

Somewhere along the way, Narcissa had decided to wait until after her mother passed away to join the Thinkers. Having been away from home for so long now, waiting a few more months, maybe if she were lucky a year or two, would be worth it if she could spend it with her mother. She had witnessed the relationship between Robb and Catelyn, and she envied them. Sure, Narcissa loved Amara and Amara loved her daughter back, but Narcissa had always been closer to her father due to them being more alike. But seeing the way Catelyn loved her children made her want to experience the same thing.

“What did you say?” Robb exclaimed loudly, pulling her back from her thoughts. The armor was resting on the trunk next to him, and Robb was only wearing a grey shirt and breeches now. 

“After seeing how life here in Westeros is, I suspect I will be less strict when deciding whom to grant loans to once I’m home again.” She’d never bankrupt her family’s bank, her father and his father before that had put way too much work into it for her to do that, but once or twice, she would show kindness. 

“Your home is Winterfell now.” Robb said sternly and Narcissa span around to look at him with surprise but his impassible façade didn’t falter. 

“Surely you can’t mean to want me to stay after what I did?” Narcissa blurted out a little too loudly before remembering the guards posted outside. “I understand you’d bring me back to ask my father for a ransom, but you can’t possibly expect me to stay.” She stated yet her voice reached a higher octave as if it were a question. 

Robb scoffed before closing in the space between them and helping himself to some wine too. The conversation wasn’t going the way either one of them had expected. “Narcissa, you are my Queen and you are my wife. Your place is by my side.” He didn’t look at her when he said those words, couldn’t, not after what she had done but it didn’t rob them of their truth. 

Narcissa felt her hands tremble and quickly set the cup down before he’d notice, trying to ignore his words. “I thought about it while we were riding back,” she sighed, leaning her back against the wooden pole. “You should write to my father, tell him about my situation. He’ll offer you money to get me back. You’ll send him a counteroffer asking for sellswords and ships instead.” That was the smart thing to do, she had thought long and hard about it.

“I’m not going to trade you for a few men and a handful of ships!” Robb shouted as his body shook with anger and wine spilled to the ground from the goblet in his hand. Narcissa was taken aback and slightly frightened by his reaction. They called him the Young Wolf but she had never seen him this furious, at least not in her presence. And yet, regardless of that, she still had half a mind to point out it wouldn’t just be a ‘few’ men and a ‘handful’ of ships. “Didn’t you listen to what I just said?” Robb asked, his voice quieter this time around but still as harsh as looked at her with a frown. 

“You’re the King in the North now! Girls were already all over you when you were just the heir to Winterfell.” Narcissa bolted before averting her gaze and staring at her feet for a second. Catelyn had told Narcissa all about Robb, how he used to be before the war broke out. “When I leave, you can have any girl you want and make her your queen.”

“I don’t want any girl!” Robb blurted back just as quickly. 

“Fine, any woman then!” Narcissa almost shouted, surprised he’d pay attention to semantics now. Instead of replying in a louder voice, she lifted her face to find Robb’s expression had somewhat changed. His blue eyes weren’t as icy as they’d just been moments ago, but they were still far from soft. 

“For someone as clever, I thought you’d have figured it out by now,” Robb snarled, shaking his head slowly as if in disbelief. Narcissa just stared at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t want any girl or any woman. You are the only Queen and the only wife I want.” He admitted for the first time, but the sharpness in his tone didn’t match the content of what he had said.

She froze at his words, instantly. She hadn’t expected he’d want her to stay, she thought he would bring her back just so he could scream at her before sending her on her merry way. “It’s not that simple, Robb,” Narcissa faltered before exhaling deeply, hoping doing so would help keep herself together. “I have a duty to my City, to my father, to family.”

Robb strode over to her and before she knew what was happening, his hand was on her neck, tilting her face upwards so she was forced to look at him. “What about your duty to me? To your husband?” He bellowed, daggering her with his eyes as the pressure on her windpipe became a little too tight for her to breath properly but he didn’t seem to care when he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss. 

Narcissa pushed him back instinctively, using both her hands and he stumbled backwards, managing to catch his balance just in time. Robb had been caught off guard by her push, though tenacious as she was, he hadn’t expected this.

Narcissa was furious. King or no king, husband or no husband, she wouldn’t let herself be treated like that. Her fury now matched his but when she finally caught her breath and dared looking at him again, she noticed that there was something beyond anger in his blue eyes now, in the way he looked at her and realized the mood had changed entirely. The laces of his shirt had come undone and his chest was heaving, and Narcissa found herself acutely aware of what was transpiring between them now.

When Robb charged at her again, she didn’t him push him back. His kiss was ferocious and their teeth chattered against each other. He didn’t wait for permission as his hands unfastened the laces of her dress in a hurry to expose her breasts to him before proceeding to pull up her skirts around her waist and remove her underclothes just as quickly. He had never been like this, this bloodthirsty and aggressive, and yet she felt the arousal between her thighs. “Robb, stop,” Narcissa’s mind protested weakly, “the guards outside.”

“Let them hear us,” Robb panted against her ear, before grazing his teeth on her neck and pushing himself into her without a warning. She hadn’t even noticed him untie his breeches in the first place but now, she found herself lifting up her legs and pressing the heels of her feet on the back of his thighs while he thrust himself into her mercilessly. 

It felt different, the way he kissed her, the way he held her. He pressed against her more forcefully, he clutched her buttocks more tightly in his hands, in a wont she knew would leave bruises on skin. Robb was angry and it showed in the manner he fucked her.

The pole shook and the canvas rustled around them each time he pounded into her, to the point Narcissa would have worried the tent might collapse had she been able to properly think at all then. She found herself screaming out each time he slid out of her just to enter her again, farther and harder than the previous thrust. She would usually have been embarrassed by her vociferousness, but Robb was being just as loud, groaning against her neck like a wolf. And at this point, it wasn’t just the two guards who’d hear them. 

His pounding was just as painful as it was pleasurable to her and she found her nails clawing away at his nape, inflicting him the same kind of torture. It resulted in Robb increasing his pace and soon, the fire pooling low in her abdomen spread like wildfire in her body, igniting all her nerves as Narcissa cried out and Robb covered her hand with his mouth when he pulsed and spilled inside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after. The end. (I’m kidding!)
> 
> The smut at the end was inspired by the sex scene in S1 E6 of ‘The Medici: Masters of Florence’ where Cosimo (Richard Madden, aka our Robb Stark) and his wife, Contessina (Annabel Scholey) make up after having been cross with each other for more than a year. If you have never watched the show, try watching that scene. You can find the episode here (scene starts at minute 37): https://www1.123movies.la/serie/medici-masters-of-florence-54m30dy/s1/watching.html
> 
> I can’t recommend the show enough as a whole! It’s brilliant, Richard Madden has lots of screen time and the storyline is awesome. To be honest with you, Narcissa’s personality is inspired by Contessina’s! Do watch the whole show if you can, if not, just watch the scene. 
> 
> PS: I promise I’m not usually this weird.


	9. Chapter 8

“Are you going to follow me around like lost puppies all day?” Narcissa snapped with exasperation when she left the tent and two young soldiers immediately treaded on her heels behind her.

“Yes, your grace.” One of them replied though she didn’t know which one. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

“No, your grace.”

She would have laughed hadn’t the situation truly unnerved her. Narcissa felt the same way she did when she was a child and was assigned an old guard by her father after she tried running away from home because mother insisted she had to wake up early to practice dancing. Finally, a few months later, her father relieved her of constant surveillance, not because she had agreed to do as ordered, but because she had managed to convince him that hiring a dancing instructor was a ridiculous expense when they both knew she’d never learn anything at all. 

After walking for what felt like ages, she found the woman she had been looking for. Lady Mormont was training with something Narcissa could only describe as a spiked mace though she wasn’t sure of the terminology. 

“Could I have a moment of your time, my lady?” Narcissa asked politely though she felt oddly out of place in the training grounds. Everyone else wore an armor and there she stood, in a long green dress that had gottem muddy as soon as she exited the tent. 

Maege Mormont didn’t appear all too happy by the intrusion but nodded her head nonetheless and followed Narcissa to a calmer area. “I suppose you are aware of what happened yesterday?” She asked the older woman with a cocked brow. 

Lady Mormont huffed, taking a seat in front of her before drinking a cup of ale. “Everyone knows you tried betraying the King.” 

Her first instinct was to correct the woman but then she realized there was no point in it. Maybe Mormont would perhaps apologize for her words but she wouldn’t stop thinking them. “You’re a highborn lady and I believe you received a worldly education. I was hoping you’d share it with me.”

It was obvious Maege Mormont was more than displeased at missing practice time with her mace and spend it talking with Narcissa instead, but nevertheless, the woman complied and soon, Narcissa was learning about the seven kingdoms, their lords and their animosities. She wasn’t a complete stranger to those matters, one of her preceptors back home had been well travelled in Westeros and taught her the big lines, but she had never paid much attention to it. 

 

“I hope you won’t mind me asking,” Lady Maege Mormont said gruffly, brushing her long grey hair away from her face. “But why are you so interested in the politics of Westeros?” At first, Narcissa believed the question was meant as a joke but the older woman’s face remained stern.

“I’m now Queen in the North,” Narcissa deadpanned but the woman’s strict mine didn’t budge. “It’s only natural I’d want to understand the political implications of this war we are all in.”

At this, Lady Mormont scoffed as if Narcissa had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. In no way did she appreciate being called ‘your Grace’ all the time or curtsied to whenever she walked up to someone, but this behavior was disrespectful. 

“I have been head of House Mormont for many years now and have wielded my mace in more battles than I can count, and none of these men ever invited me into their small council.” 

Narcissa was surprised at the bitterness in the woman’s voice but she did agree that the traditional exclusion of women from politics was beyond ridiculous. Men couldn’t trust women to conjure rational opinions, and yet expected them to bear rational heirs. 

“That is something I find most absurd as well, especially in your situation,” Narcissa admitted, “but I don’t need to get inside that tent as long as my ideas do.” Lady Mormont mockingly raised her eyebrows at Narcissa’s words and the latter started wondering if the woman thought her to be a simpleton. “I never once set foot inside the Signoria back in Florence, and yet, during my father’s exile, I still controlled the votes from the outside.” She said before quickly standing up from the tree stump and walking away. Putting up with Maege’s hostility had already managed to darken her mood and it was barely midday. 

Unnerved as she already was, the sound of footsteps of the two guards following her closely was sufficient to drive her crazy. To Narcissa, it was no wonder King Aerys II had turned mad if he had constantly been followed by guards for years. Sighing with exasperation, she entered the first tent she walked past, hoping the soldiers would stay outside. 

“Your grace,” an older bald man immediately announced, bowing his head respectfully. “How may we be of help?” 

Startled at the large number of people who stood there staring at her, Narcissa scanned the tent only to realize she had intruded into part of the kitchens and everyone seemed a little frightened by her sudden entrance. “Do you have anything that needs cutting?” She asked hopefully. At least she might direct her anger into doing something useful. 

The cook remained silent but she saw his gaze fall to the giant brown sack on the ground before he turned back to her, a little hesitant. “The potatoes, but I’d never presume upon your Grace to-”

“Potatoes it is, then.” Narcissa chuckled as she grabbed a knife from the counter. 

Quickly, she found that except for head cook, the other men had no experience in the kitchens. Most of them had been injured in previous battles and weren’t fit to go back to battle yet, while two young ones had simply been declared too green. Narcissa herself wasn’t a great cook, in fact she couldn’t recall a time in her life where she had actually cooked her own meal but she was far from being the worst help in that room. None of them even knew which part of leeks were edible and unlike her potato cutting companion, who went by the name of Pip, which she found rather odd, she didn’t end the session with a rag wrapped around her bloody palm. 

Narcissa helped him clean the wound and tie the fabric around his palm before turning around only head to find the head cook, Thomas, look at her with apprehension. “Speak your mind,” Narcissa nodded at the older man who looked increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Your grace, if you had been the one cut-, cut-, cutting yourself,” the man stuttered a little shakily and Narcissa had to resist the temptation not to roll her eyes at his anxiousness. “The King, he would-”

The man didn’t have to finish for Narcissa to understand what he wanted to say, and this time, she did roll her eyes. “The King would merely insist a healer take a look at the wound.” Narcissa explained, before going to back to the potatoes. “In no case would you be held accountable, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Truth be told, she had zero idea what Robb would do. For starters, she didn’t know where they stood. They hadn’t talked since last night and even then, there hadn’t been much talking involved, so he might even hate her for all she knew. But most of all, Robb wasn’t like those fancy Lannisters in the Red Keep who would punish a servant for their mistakes. She might not have known him well, but she knew him enough to know that he wasn’t like that. 

“Your Grace,” Olyvar greeted as soon as she exited the kitchen after her help wasn’t needed anymore. “The King wants to see you.” Narcissa noticed the fear in the squire’s eyes and wondered if she hadn’t perhaps been a little too scary when they first now. 

“Does it have to be now?” She asked with barely hidden irritation. She had stained her dress while in there and she was quite sure she smelled of dinner, but Olyvar said the King had insisted it be now. 

She followed Olyvar through the narrow passageways, and noticed everyone was hushing back into their tents. She didn’t have time to wonder why before heavy rain drops immediately started plummeting from the sky and both Olyvar and Narcissa picked up their pace, hoping to find shelter before they were drenched. 

Olyvar stopped abruptly in front of the council tent and Narcissa almost ran into his back as the squire pulled back the flap. She couldn’t help biting her lips anxiously then. It was just like when she was younger: There was nothing she wanted more than to get inside her father’s study, but whenever she was summoned there, she knew she was going to get grounded. 

Narcissa found Robb sitting alone at the head of the table, a large map of Westeros spread out in front of him. He looked up from the map only to eye her up and down with a frown. “Where have you been, Narcissa?”

“In the kitchens, and then in the rain,” Narcissa sighed with agitation, running her hand through her hair, hoping to untangle it before making her way around the table and taking a seat at his right. 

“You wanted to see me?” She asked teasingly, tilting her head when he was still staring at her disheveled appearance. She was aware she didn’t look very regal in that moment, but it wasn’t that bad, she hoped. 

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Robb grimaced before looking her in the eyes, but Narcissa didn’t know what he was talking about. “I saw the bruises this morning,” he admitted, dropping his gaze for a second. 

Instantly, Narcissa felt her anxiety fade away as the corners of her lips tilt upwards. “I enjoyed it.” She admitted rather boldly with a smirk and Robb looked up, the ghost of a smile on his own lips. She waited for him to say something more, but Robb remained silent even though he had been the one sending for her in the first place. 

“I apologize for not telling you all that sooner.” Narcissa wasn’t particularly used to apologizing, mostly because she usually found herself in the right side of an argument or at least, she believed she did, but this time there was no point in denying her misconduct. 

“And you are right,” she admitted hesitantly. “I made a promise in front of the Old Gods that day and we Medici believe in pacta sunt servanda. I should not have tried running away.”

She had expected him to look happy then, or at least satisfied. After all, she just admitted she was wrong and he was right, but instead, his eyes darkened and his face grew somber “So, you are staying because you feel you’re obliged to do so as my wife?” 

Narcissa’s brows furrowed with confusion at his words. She didn’t know what he was getting at. “I am obliged to do so,” Narcissa ascertained, still puzzled. “I promised to so in front of those weirds gods of the forest.” 

In other circumstances, Robb would have found amusement in the way she had spoken about his deities, but not now. He had lied wide wake all night thinking about it, trying to look at their relationship from her point of view only to realize that he had been the opportunity to object to their marriage and find another way to cross the Green Fork, even if it meant taking a large detour. Narcissa was never given that choice, Walder Frey had forced her to accept it by threatening her friends. And Robb had decided he wouldn’t be tyrant like her grandfather was, not to the very same woman he had promised to protect in front of the Old Gods. 

“I won’t force you to stay, Narcissa.” Robb admitted, not looking directly into her eyes. He had not expected the words to burn his tongue so painfully, but he was resolved to speak them regardless. “I don’t want you to stay with me as a prisoner. I don’t want to keep you here against your will and see the resentment in your eyes every time I look at you.” 

Robb remembered part of a poem Sansa loved reading so much. If you love something set it free. He had never given it much thought then, considering it some girlish folly like pretty much everything else Sansa was fond of, but maybe there was some truth in it. “I can spare a few men to escort you safely to the Narrow Sea. You could ride out a daybreak.” He said, almost expecting her to stand up at once and go pack belongings, but she didn’t move. 

He felt incredibly vulnerable then, especially as Narcissa remained uncharacteristically silent. She hadn’t intended to prolong his agony. Simply, for the first time in her life she was truly at a loss for words and no sentence she conjured in her brain felt right. 

She knew he had come to care for her, just like she had for him, but this was beyond that. It was a show of respect. Robb wanted her to stay, he had told her as much last night, but he wouldn’t force her to and that made her feel very strange all of a sudden. His presence made her feel very warm, but it wasn’t like those hot days in Florence when she barely dared stepping outside. It was the feeling of warmth that came only when you put on your favorite cloak in a cold winter day or when you warmed your hands by the fire after riding in the rain. 

Narcissa looked away for a few seconds, mustering up the courage to speak as she realized that for the first time in her life, she would follow her heart and not her mind. They hadn’t even known each other that long. Maybe it was stupid or even reckless to remain with him in Westeros, but she realized that it was exactly what she wanted. 

Her hand came to rest on his before she noticed she had even moved at all. Narcissa waited until he was looking at her before taking a deep breath. “I am staying Robb,” she said with a smile. “Not because I have to, but because I want to.” Admitting it out loud made her feel exposed but it didn’t feel as frightened as she had expected, it was actually soothing. 

They remained like that, hand in hand, smiling at each other almost like two simpletons before Robb stood up without a warning and pulled her up with him. His hands went to cup to her face, desperately wanting to kiss her. “I do have one condition, though,” Narcissa chirped, stopping him when their lips were less than an inch away from each other. “When the war is over, and I hope it is soon, I want to go back to Florence and visit my family.” 

Robb found himself smiling as their foreheads touched. “We’ll go to Florence together,” he promised before kissing his wife. All the anger from the previous night had vanished. Their kiss was pure and sincere then, how it should have been in the Godswood if the world was a perfect place and people weren’t forced to marry for political reasons. Maybe Catelyn was right: Love was something you built stone by stone and they had just laid the foundation. 

They were interrupted by an obnoxious cough and the couple broke apart to see Lord Umber enter the tent with the other council members. “I’d say get a tent, but technically…” 

Robb started laughing at the Greatjon’s comment but next to him, Narcissa pursed her lips. She had come a long way, but public displays of affection were not something she was entirely uncomfortable with. 

“I’ll leave you men to it,” Narcissa said, nodding at the different council members as she hurried to exit the tent and leave her embarrassment behind. That was without taking into account Robb’s playful side. 

“I’ll see you in our tent,” her husband chaffed and she blushed crimson, hearing the others laugh at her expense. Even taciturn Roose Bolton chuckled. 

-/-/-/-

After leaving the council tent, she went to have supper with Travis and Clive and the others, and play a few rounds. Clive was still distant, avoiding making eye contact just like the day before but Narcissa shrugged it off as him simply holding a grudge. Travis, however, was understanding, immediately welcoming her back just like nothing had happened, and for that she grateful. Yet, she had found her mind not to be in the game, not entire and in the end, she retired to her tent early. 

Narcissa decided to take a bath. She felt her muscles relax in the warm water as soon as she was submerged in it and couldn’t resist touching the trail of small bruises that littered her haunches. She closed her eyes and thought about the previous night, how the colorful dots on her skin had come to be and the way he had kissed her just hours before. She knew she must have looked silly, eyes closed and grinning, but she was happy. Maybe celibate life in The Tower wasn’t the best choice for her after all, Narcissa concluded with a smirk. 

But the law of physics didn’t care about her happiness and the water ran cold. Narcissa stood up suddenly as if the temperature had dropped without a warning. And then it started, a burning sensation in her esophagus which made her cough up painfully before she could even cover her mouth with her hand. Narcissa looked down at the bath water to find it was tinted in red just like her lips. The sight made her stomach turn and it took her a few minutes until she felt well enough to step out of the tub and drink some water to get rid of the metallic taste. 

Her throat still hurt but Narcissa decided that ignoring it was the best way to make it pass. Ignoring her problems until they went away, that was something she had always been good at and you don’t change things that work. Searching for a distraction, her a gaze fell upon the inkwell sitting on the desk. 

The quill scratched over the parchment, making a shrill noise but Narcissa barely noticed. All she could think about now was how ridiculous she sounded in the letter she was writing. Either Cosimo would laugh at her behavior or throw the letter into the fire in a fit of rage. 

Dearest father,

I miss you. I miss mother, Valentino and even hot-headed Lorenzo.  
Forgive me for not writing sooner but once you reach the end of this letter I’m sure you will understand the reasons behind it. 

And then she wrote about everything that happened to her after she arrived at the Twins. How they found out a war had broken out and were forced to stay there longer than expected. How, by an almost unbelievable combination of circumstances, she had ended up married to a man she didn’t know and became queen of a region she had never even been to. And even more unbelievably than that, she had managed to find happiness in her new life. 

I know what you must be thinking father. I know that you must believe me crazy and silly for deciding to stay, and in all honesty, I wonder about my own sanity as well. But you once told me how you found your eternal companion at the Twins, and I believe I did as well…

Please tell me Piero and Gloria have arrived safely. I haven’t heard anything about them since the day after the wedding, and my worry grows with every second I remain without news. 

Above all, I apologize for the sword. I am sure by now you must have noticed its disappearance. Getting it back is what brought me to Westeros in the first place. I haven’t lost hope in finding it and in bringing it back to you and mother. Please forgive me for not telling you sooner, and do tell mother that I love her. 

I plan on visiting Florence as soon as the war is over, and in the meantime, I hope to keep in touch. 

Yours always,  
Cissa. 

“What are you writing?” Robb asked softly, startling Narcissa who hadn’t even heard him enter the tent in the first place. 

“I just finished,” Narcissa replied. “It is a letter to my father.” She said with a sad smile, realizing how much she truly did miss Florence and her family. But she knew Robb would keep his promise and they’d visit the city once the war was over. 

She watched him attentively from the bed as he unlaced his brown doublet before shrugging it off along with the shirt in one swift movement and throwed the garments on the floor, next to the bathtub. “Why is the water red?” Robb inquired with a frown, before joining her on the bed. 

“I spilled wine while I was bathing,” Narcissa lied, her sheepish tone making him chuckle.

He lied down on his back next to her on the bed, hands behind his head. “The Lannister spy was questioned today,” Robb sighed as Narcissa uncertainly curled up next to him, resting her hand on his chest to play with the short hairs. 

“What did he say?” She asked lightly, her attention having diverted to what lay beneath her fingers. Robb sighed again before freeing his right arm from behind his head and using it to bring Narcissa closer to him. Her skin was softer than ever, he noticed with bliss. 

“Stafford Lannister’s army is stationed near Oxcross.” He explained, his voice serious again, while running his thumb through the skin of her back. Robb was glad that instead of pulling them apart, her attempt to flee seemed to have strengthened their relationship. 

“I have no idea where that is,” Narcissa admitted, almost with embarrassment. She had decided this morning that if she were to stay, she ought to learn more about Westeros’ geography and politics but it would take some time. Maybe she’d start with the Westerlands. 

“It’s where you were headed,” Robb chuckled before his tone lost its humor once more. “We attack tomorrow night.” That was what he and the war council had been discussing for the past few hours, and the decision had been unanimous. 

“Tomorrow night?” Narcissa blurted out, immediately sitting up straight to look at him and reassure herself that he was joking but she found that his face was set. “You can’t be serious!”

“We have to attack before they realize their spies were intercepted and move their camp.” She wouldn’t deny the logic in his words but it didn’t mean she approved. “We’ll do it at night, when they’re sleeping.”

“When do you leave then?” Narcissa asked quietly. It would be the first time Robb was away in battle while Catelyn was also away, and she wondered how she’d cope with the worry without her mother-by-law’s company. Narcissa was not religious but watching Catelyn pray to the Seven with blind faith actually helped her keep calm. 

“After breaking fast, the ride takes a few hours.” 

Narcissa found herself immediately worrying about his safety even though he was still there with her, touching her. It was ridiculous, really, Robb wasn’t called the Young Wolf for nothing and he’d be surrounded by thousands of his men, and not to be forgotten, his dire wolf who had just showed up after a long hunting trip. And yet, there was still a pinch in her heart.

“Here, take this,” Narcissa said at last, taking off her golden ring and handing it to her husband. “Let it be a reminder of my scorn you’ll face if you dare show up with as much as a little scratch on your skin.” 

Robb laughed at her words before accepting the token and putting it inside the pocket of his breeches. “I have never truly seen you angry,” he confessed, wondering if he would have witness her yelling. 

“You should hope that you never do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess because I had no basis from the show and had to write it all from scratch. I’m embarrassed I’m actually posting it and I’m pretty sure everyone is OOC in this…  
> There will be more plot starting next chapter! I have the following chapters mapped out and if everything goes as planned, my version of the Red Wedding will take place on chapter fifteen. 
> 
> Most of the next chapter is already written but because I actually have college assignments due Friday and Saturday that need my attention, I can’t promise a quick update but I’ll do my best! Or I might keep it hostage until I get a few comments on this haha
> 
> Thank you for your support!


	10. Chapter 9

Robb had ridden off hours ago with his army and Narcissa had found herself wandering the camp aimlessly. Clive and Travis were off to battle as well, Catelyn still hadn’t returned and no one needed her help in the kitchens since most men were away and there were less meals to be prepared. 

Narcissa wondered then if she ought to pray, like Catelyn always did. What if the Gods really did exist and her mother-by-law’s prayers did protect Robb in battle? With skepticism, Narcissa kneed down in her tent and closed her eyes, waiting to feel a sudden presence next to her but there was nothing. 

“Are you there?” Narcissa whispered quietly, feeling rather ridiculous. All she could hear was the heavy rain falling on the canvas. She was about to get back up when the loud sound of thunder nearly ruptured her eardrums. Was this a yes, she wondered with amusement. 

“I don’t know what Catelyn usually does when she prays but it seems to work, so I want to do same,” she said, barely loud enough to hear her own voice during the thunderstorm. “So, keep him safe.” Narcissa concluded hesitantly before quickly adding something. “Please?”

She wasn’t sure how long she knelt there, trying to pray to Gods she didn’t even know, but her kneecaps started to hurt before the rain stopped. It made her feel powerless, not knowing if they had heard her if they even existed at all and powerlessness was a feeling she hated. 

Abruptly, she stood up again to go sit at Robb’s desk and started studying the parchments where she had copied Westeros’ map. The enemies of my enemies are my friends, Narcissa thought as the tip of her fingers brushed over Dorne. If there was anyone who hated the Lannisters as much as the Starks did, then it was the Martells. Stannis Baratheon was also very keen on getting Joffrey off the throne and she knew Robb had no intention on sitting on Iron Throne either. All he wanted was to go back home with his family, with her and she wanted the same thing. 

“Take me to the prisoners please,” Narcissa said loudly, stepping out her tent to find her guards were drenched. Robb had insisted that she keep them still, not as surveillance but as protection when he wasn’t there. It didn’t exactly please her but it didn’t bother her to the point of arguing over it either. After all, it was only while he was away. 

“To the prisoners, your Grace?” One of them stuttered, blinking. 

“Yes.” Narcissa insisted. The guards looked at each other, feeling rather uncertain about the request but she was the Queen as in the end, they did as asked. 

Narcissa had never to this part of camp before. It was at the very edge of it, beyond the armory and the makeshift stables and she realized pallidly how many of them there were. Pens and pens filled with men stretched out further than she could make out in the darkening sky. They looked filthy but none of them appeared injured or beaten. 

“Which ones of you are native to King’s Landing?” She asked loudly, announcing her presence and immediately, all the men turned around to stare at her. The animosity was vivid in their eyes but she ought to have it expected it. They were enemies after all. “I would like to ask a few questions.”

There were murmurs inside the pens but with the rain she couldn’t understand what any of them were saying. “And why would we help you?” One of them suddenly pat, pressing his face to the bars of the cell with a smirk that almost chilled her to the bones. 

“Because the questions will take place around a nice, warm supper away from the rain.” Narcissa said spontaneously. 

At once, everyone volunteered to be questioned and she had to pick out which ones looked the most trustworthy, and also, the least likely to kill her over dinner. In the end she picked out two middle-aged soldiers and a younger one. “Have them cleaned and then brought to me in an hour.”

Narcissa would never admit how nervous she was then, waiting for the prisoners as she sat alone at a table. Her guards had strongly advised her against it, and the word ‘mad’ had even slipped from one of their mouths but she was determined to be useful in this war. She’d never amount to a skilled fighter like Maege Mormont but her father had always called her a natural politician. 

“Take a seat,” Narcissa said cheerfully, trying to hide her fear, when the three men were brought to her tent. They were cleaner now and she was happy to notice that the stench was gone. Hesitantly, the soldiers sat down around her and she could sense the way her guards kept their hands on the handle of their swords, ready to intervene at any moment. “Please help yourselves.”

They didn’t have to be told twice and the stew was almost gone by the time she helped herself to it, but she didn’t mind. If she was hungry later, she could get a snack from the kitchens. “So, tell me, did all of you grow up in King’s Landing?” 

The prisoners stopped eating at once, and she witnessed them looking at each other warily until the youngest one, who looked about her age, finally replied. “Aye. My mother was a whore in a fancy brothel held by Petyr Baelish.” 

It took all of her poise not to laugh then. She had hoped food would make them more cooperative but she hadn’t expected blatant honesty of this sort. “And who is this Petyr Baelish?”

“He’s Master of Coin,” the one with the beard replied. “Along with the Spider, he’s most likely the one who holds most power in King’s Landing.”

“The spider?” Narcissa asked with curiosity. 

In the hours that followed, Narcissa learned more about King’s Landing than any book could ever have taught her. She learned about the Mountain and the Hound, about Joffrey’s barely disguised tendencies for cruelty and most of all, how the Lannisters weren’t really appreciated by the smallfolk. 

“If you have any more questions, I’d be happy to help, your Grace,” the youngest one replied with a smile now that his belly was full and it was time for them to go. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Narcissa chuckled. She remained seated until she was left alone in the tent and then hurried back to her desk, writing down all the new information lest she forget. 

There were some things she already knew before even setting foot in Westeros. The Crown owed a tremendous amount of money to the Lannisters and the Iron Bank. Father told her once how he had found out through spies that the mines in Casterly Rock were slowly running dry and that soon, the Medici would not just be the richest family in Essos, but in the known world. 

She knew the Iron Bank would refuse them any more loans at this point, which meant that the Crown would be forced to ally with a rich family. They might even try to broker a deal with the Medici bank but she was sure her father would refuse, especially once her letter arrived and he found out she was now on the other side of the conflict. Maybe they could starve out King’s Landing if they were able to get Lord Baelish and Lord Varys to switch sides. 

Narcissa spent most of her night and the following day writing down ideas, trying to come up with a plan that would help them win the war with little bloodshed. The thought of Robb’s safety was always there, in the back of her mind, and she was resolved to find a way to keep him away from more battles. The worry was consuming, most likely clouding her judgment and she was certain she would grow mad if the war went on for long. 

And then she heard the sound of blowing horns and bolted out of her tent like Catelyn after the battle of the Whispering Wood. Narcissa watched as Robb rode back to camp, Grey Wind at his side, as night was falling again. He jumped off his mount as soon as he spotted her in the middle of the crowd, hair plastered to her face and shivering in the rain. Robb couldn’t help but notice the large grin on her face as he approached her before kissing her forehead. 

“Why aren’t you wearing a coat?” He asked with concern when he noticed her wet clothes and her shivering frame. 

“I forgot,” Narcissa admitted softly, almost embarrassed. “I was so excited to see you again, I didn’t think about the rain.”

There was nothing that he wanted more than take his wife in his arms and warm her up in an embrace but his armor didn’t allow for much movement and it was covered in blood. “Let’s get back to our tent.”

Narcissa stopped a couple of servants on their way and asked them to bring food to their tent and prepare him a bath. Robb observed her natural, calm authority with awe. She didn’t need to raise her voice to be heard in a noisy crowd and everyone quickly followed her orders. He knew Narcissa would run Winterfell like a clockwork, there was no doubt in that. 

“Are you saying that I’m filthy?” Robb teased, watching her as they walked hand in hand. 

“You smell like a wet wolf,” she replied with her nose wrinkled before laughing. 

Either they had taken a long time to get there, or the servants were particularly efficient, but by the time they reached their tent, a bathtub filled with hot water stood in the center of the room and there was a plate of food sitting on the table. 

Narcissa helped Robb take off his armor, barely cringing as her fingers touched the dried up blood on the metal. Narcissa didn’t know how it was possible, but his skin was dirty even beneath the clothes and armor. Did he roll around in the mud like a wolf, Narcissa wondered silently, watching him. The water was most likely still boiling hot but he lowered himself into it without complaint. “Will you join me?” Robb asked with a hopeful smile. 

Narcissa eyed the greying water with reluctance, ready to refuse when she caught his buoyant blue eyes. She sighed dramatically before undoing the laces of her dress. “Don’t even think about getting my hair wet!” She said sternly but the menace was lost on Robb who couldn’t keep his eyes off his wife as she revealed her naked body to him. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that,” he said huskily when she stepped foot inside the bathtub and realized with relief that the water wasn’t as hot as she had expected it to be. 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, your Grace,” Narcissa joked, knowing how much he disliked being called by his title. It wasn’t that he disliked it per se, but he had confided in her that it felt like too much pressure was put on his shoulders. 

She sat down on the opposite side of the tub, facing him with a smirk when she noticed he was already aroused. “And what will get me anywhere with you, your Grace?” Her husband asked suggestively, trying to keep his eyes on her face. 

Narcissa tried kicking him in the chest with her foot but his reflexes were too fast and he caught her leg mid-air. Robb laughed at her pout before placing a kiss on her ankle and resting her foot on his shoulder. “It’s the second time you’ve tried striking a king.”

“I can promise you it won’t be the last time either,” she replied, attempting a wink but failing miserably. 

Narcissa watched him closely as he washed the grime off his skin, not bothering to remove her leg from its position. He didn’t have a single scratch, she happily noted. He did have some small scars, but those dated back to his childhood and they were all healed now. She noted with fright that there was blood on his hair before realizing that it wasn’t his. Still, the concern remained, at there were some matters she wanted to address.

“I did a lot of thinking while you were away.”

“Thinking about what?” Robb asked cautiously, stopping his washing mid-track, afraid she had decided to leave him after all.

“The Martells hate the Lannisters as much as you do, you’ll have no trouble bringing them to your side.” Narcissa explained, rubbing her toes up and down his chest. “And Stannis Baratheon is the rightful heir to the throne. If you side with him, you might be able to convince him to leave you the North.”

“Stannis is a fickle man,” Robb sighed. “And Doran Martell is sickly and never keen on waging war.”

“Just like you said,” Narcissa purred with a smirk, “Doran is sickly. His brother Oberyn, however, wishes nothing more than to avenge his sister.” 

She had met him in Dorne when she first arrived in Westeros. He was a very handsome man for his age and very brazen too, Narcissa recalled, remembering how he had invited her to a night in his and Ellaria’s company. She would keep that herself however, Robb surely wouldn’t appreciate learning about that. 

“I just returned from battle,” her husband said gravelly. “There are many things I’d rather do with my wife than talk about politics.” Robb added boldly, before tracing the inner side of her leg with the tip of his finger, starting at her ankle and then descending slowly all the way down to her thigh. Maybe their talk could wait. 

Narcissa bit her lower lip, suppressing a chuckle at his impatience. “Like what?” She asked leeringly. 

Robb didn’t reply, instead he leaned forward until her body was covered with his and she felt his erection press against her, as he trailed his tongue along her neck. “Like making love.”

-/-/-/-

The victory at the battle of Oxcross left everyone in high spirits, especially because it was quickly followed by the Sack of Ashemark which helped them restock their supplies. Stafford Lannister was dead and with him over two thousands of his men, with lots more held as prisoners. Robb told her how some of his men were disapproving of his choice to keep so many prisoners, especially Lord Bolton but Lord Karstark wasn’t exactly pleased either. Keeping them alive was maybe not the most logical decision, but it was the honorable and she knew he’d always follow that path. 

“They have my sisters, I cannot afford to anger them,” Robb sighed with exasperation late at night, sitting at his desk in their tent. 

The single candle that was still burning didn’t provide for much light and from the bed, she couldn’t quite make out his expression but she didn’t need to. By now, she knew him well enough that any mention of his sisters was enough to bring a frown to his face. “I was never raised to be king, but now that I am, I want to be a good one and to me, that doesn’t include executing men unnecessarily.” 

Narcissa patiently listened to his rant though there wasn’t much comfort she could offer. He hadn’t been raised to be king, and she hadn’t been raised to be queen either. It made her realize that the both of them were nothing more than children. Sure, both were of age but the truth was nothing in their lives had prepared them for this. 

“What would you be doing right now in Winterfell if all this hadn’t happened?” Narcissa asked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

Robb went into deep thought at her question. It felt like eternities had passed since he left home, to the point where he hardly remembered who he used to be or what he used to do. “I’d probably be showing you around the Wolfswood before Winter comes and it all turns white with snow.” 

Narcissa’s first reaction was to smile at his words even though she didn’t like being in the woods a lot, but then something dawned on her. “You and I would never have met if it weren’t for this,” she whispered, both knowing what ‘this’ meant. It was a terrible thing to realize they met and got married because of war neither of them wanted. They met because the Lannisters imprisoned his father and Narcissa wondered if in later years, that would be all he’d see when he looked at her. 

“Old Nan once said that there cannot be darkness without light or light without darkness,” Robb said calmly, as if he had heard her internal worries. 

-/-/-/- 

It was with great joy that they welcomed Catelyn back at the new camp in Oxcross a handful of days later. Sadly, her mother-by-law came back with news of Renly Baratheon’s death. The tall lady in armor who accompanied Catelyn insisted Renly had been killed by a shadow with Stannis’ face. No one seemed to believe her, but Narcissa had heard weirder stories from other free cities when the Lord of Light was concerned and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Though, the question that everyone was asking themselves was with whom Renly’s men and the Tyrells would side with. And at this point, no one knew for sure yet. 

Narcissa had hoped that having Catelyn back would help her cope better with Robb’s absence during battles but her mother-by-law had heard about her failed escape attempt and wasn’t as quick to forgive as her son was. Catelyn looked at her with resentment and she couldn’t blame her for it. “My son was so good to you and yet you jumped at the first chance to leave him,” she spat in anger when Narcissa tried to talk with her. 

This meant that while Robb was away fighting at the Yellow Fork, Narcissa spent her time in the council tent staring at the map as if a miracle solution would come to her if she just focused hard enough. The only reasonable option she saw, was convincing Stannis Baratheon to lay siege upon King’s Landing in the Blackwater Way and for to Robb use his men in order to block all roads leading to the Capital, and wait for them to starve. Robb kept telling her it was impossible to do so now because that meant they had to control at least some part of the Reach and Stannis wanted all seven Kingdoms, not six. Alliances would have been much easier to come by if the North hadn’t declared its independence. 

The rest of her time, Narcissa spend it coughing blood into a napkin until she got so annoyed by it she decided to admit something was wrong and seek help from the healers, lest Robb find out. She recognized a nurse named Talisa she remembered from that afternoon spent mending clothes and headed to straight to her. 

“Do you have an antitussive?” Narcissa asked quietly, knowing that word travelled fast around camp.

Talisa Maegyr frowned at the request before nodding quickly and leading Narcissa to a small shelf where differently colored vials were stored. “This is good if you only have a cough,” Talisa said, handing Narcissa a light blue liquid, “but if you have a cold, it won’t work.”

Narcissa shook her head. She hesitated, looking down a few seconds before deciding that she needed to tell the truth if she wanted to get the appropriate medication. “What causes the coughing of blood?” Narcissa whispered, making sure no one was within ear shot. 

The nurse’s eyes widened suddenly, taking up most of her slim face. “There are many causes. Usually it’s bronchitis or pneumonia, but it can also be the result of ingestion of corrosive substances.”

“Do you have any examples?” Narcissa asked. She wasn’t an uneducated person but the healing arts had never been her area of interest. 

“Well, there’s poison,” Talisa suggested cautiously. Insinuating someone might be poisoning the queen was a grave thing, but Narcissa wasn’t convinced. She had continued helping in the kitchens and they seemed to like her well enough. They had no motive to poison her as far as she knew. “There are also plants which can cause someone to cough up blood if ingested in high doses – cassava, tansy, pennyroyal, for instance – but I doubt you’ve in been in contact with any of these, your Grace.”

Narcissa managed to thank Talisa and exit the tent quickly, hopefully before her paleness became evident. She almost laughed at the irony of it, knowing that the only person who was poisoning her was herself. Gloria had told her the herbs were a mild form of moon tea, less dangerous for the body but Narcissa should have expected a long term consumption to cause complications. 

Before she could dwell on it too long, her guards informed her that Alton Lannister had returned from King’s Landing with something for her. The messenger handed her a short letter and a carefully wrapped package. 

Dear friend from the inn,  
I notice we now stand on opposite sides in this war though I can’t imagine how you’ve found yourself with the Stark army. I do hope that you’ll satisfy my curiosity.   
I intended to give you this in person but I do not wish to end up a prisoner like my brother. (Give him my regards!)   
I look forward to drinking with your again,  
Tyrion Lannister. 

Narcissa excitedly tore open the paper to find the sword that had brought her to Westeros in the first place. The Valeryan steel shone brightly even in the dimness of the clouded sky, and she found herself beaming, knowing that she’d be able to return it to her father once the war was over and make up for her mistakes. 

And when the horns sounded, signaling Robb’s and his men’s victorious, Narcissa forgot all about her conversation with Talisa, rejoicing in the fact that he was back and every won battle was a step closer to the end of the war. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa woke up the following day to news of Jamie Lannister’s attempted escape which resulted in the deaths of Alton Lannister and Torrhen Karstark. Robb left her alone in bed to go deal with the pressing matter but Narcissa couldn’t stop thinking about the implications of this. Lord Karstark had lost his eldest son, Harrion, to Jamie Lannister during the battle of the Whispering Wood and now another of his sons had died at the same man’s hands. She knew Robb would now face great pressure by the Karstark men to have the Kingslayer executed for this and yet, he couldn’t because that would mean losing the only leverage he held over Tywin. 

“Thank God I’m not a man and don’t actually have to deal with that stuff,” Narcissa whispered to herself as she closed her eyes, hoping get a few more hours of sleep but it was a lost cause. Her mind was too loud and she ended up going to the kitchens again to calm her nerves until she was summoned to the council tent in the afternoon.

“Your Graces, my lady, news from Wintefell,” Roose Bolton announced as soon as she entered the tent before handing Robb a letter. 

He read the short message a few times over as if the content would magically change. “This cannot be true,” he muttered with disbelief, making Narcissa frown. She ripped the parchment from his hands to finally understand what was going on. 

“We’ve had ravens from White Harbor, Barrowton and Dreadfort. I am afraid it is true.” Bolton confirmed gravely. 

“Why? Why would Theon-?” Robb asked emptily. 

“Because the Greyjoys are treasonous whores.” Narcissa would have laughed at that hadn’t the situation truly been so dire. 

“My brothers?”

“We’ve heard nothing of them. But Rodrick Cassel is dead,” Bolton replied with little emotion.

“I told you never trust a Greyjoy.” Catelyn shouted loudly, almost hysterically. 

Narcissa froze then. She saw the three of talking in front of her but she wasn’t paying attention to what was being said. Theon hadn’t made a good impression on her from the first time they met, but she had always had the impression that he was loyal to Robb. If a close friend couldn’t be trusted at this point, could they even rely on a vassal who was only bound to them by feudal allegiance? What was stopping any of the other lords from betraying them as well?

“Are you alright?” Robb asked with concern, slowly rubbing her arms until Narcissa came to focus on her surroundings again and noticed they were alone now. 

“I’m sorry, Robb,” she whispered, forcing a small smile. “Your mother told me a lot about your brothers. Bran is very resourceful, I’m certain they’re fine.” Narcissa lied and Robb’s face told her he wasn’t entirely convinced. 

“Bolton is sending his son to take over Winterfell for me.” Robb sighed, walking back to seat at the head of the table. 

“I don’t think that’s wise, Robb.” She advised carefully. “How do you know you can trust him?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Robb admitted with resignation. “If I march North, we’ll lose the Westerlands and the Riverlands.” Narcissa noticed him staring at the map and she followed his gaze, he was right. The Lannisters were waiting for them to make a mistake like that.

“I can convince my father to hire sellswords and ships and sent them North.” She finally asserted confidently. It was true that Cosimo always kept himself away from matters regarding armed conflicts, but this around, he’d make an exception, she was sure of it. After all, the safety of his only daughter could very well depend on it. 

“And how much time will that take?” Robb argued with irritation and no one could blame him for it after the news they had just received. 

Narcissa sighed, realizing he was right. It would take a few weeks for him to receive the letter and organize everything, and then, the men would still have to cross the Narrow Sea and head North. “Make the Bolton situation temporary, just until the sellswords arrive,” she pleaded. Somehow, she had a bad feeling in her gut when it came to the Boltons. 

“Sellswords are loyal to nothing more than money, Narcissa.” Robb exhaled, beckoning her to him and sit on his lap. He had never expected to marry a woman who was so keen on getting involved in matters like this, but then, Narcissa had always exceeded all expectations. “They turn on us as soon as someone offers to pay them more,” he explained, softly rubbing her back until he felt her giggle against him. 

“No one outbids a Medici.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I apologize for the long wait!!! I had to do an essay, which endedup taking much time and work than expected (I actually had to go to the law library, which I never do), and I’m just now finally able to breathe again!
> 
> Second, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter! It feels different to me because I wrote it over a few days instead of all in one go so it feels like a patchwork haha
> 
> Third, next chapter will focus on the take of the Crag! For those who have the read the books (which I haven’t) you might be able to guess what will happen…
> 
> Until then, enjoy the good weather and have fun!


	11. Chapter 10

“What is going on, father?” A young Narcissa asked with wide brown eyes, staring at the large bonfire which illuminated the night. 

“They’re praying to R’hllor, the Lord of the Light,” Cosimo explained before taking his daughter in his arms, afraid he might lose her in the wild crowd. Amara would have his head if she found out he had taken their daughter to a Red Temple but they were in Myr after all, and Narcissa was a curious child. “They’re asking him to bring back dawn.” 

His daughter giggled in his arms, long dark hair falling over her eyes. “They should stop,” she protested quietly. “Mother says the longer it remains dark, the longer I am allowed to sleep.” 

Cosimo looked at the young girl with pride and adoration. She truly was his daughter, there was no doubt. Remarkably unimpressed and pragmatic at all times. “Let’s get you to bed, then.” He said, walking them out of the temple. 

“Lord cast your light upon us for the night is dark and full of terrors,” the priests chanted in unison.

“Your Grace?” Narcissa heard the words feebly before a hand came to rest on her shoulder, making her lose balance on her tipped chair and almost fall down if she hadn’t been able to grab at the desk at the last moment. 

“I could have broken my neck, Olyvar!” Narcissa shouted, no longer feeling sleepy now that the adrenaline had kicked in. 

“It’s the King, your Grace.”

“What about him?” Narcissa inquired urgently, standing up immediately and forgetting about the papers in her lap. 

“He’s injured.” 

At once, she bolted out of the tent and everyone seemed to part ways for her. This instantly reminded her of when Eddard Stark had died, the silent eerie feeling when all men were quiet. Narcissa hurried over to where most of the crowd was gathered. She didn’t need to fight her way in, every man let her through until she was standing right next to Catelyn, looking at Robb. 

He was lying on a stretcher, unconscious. He wasn’t wearing his armor or his doublet, only a shirt and breeches and yet the beads of sweat kept his locks stuck to his face. But that wasn’t what caught her attention, it was the large gaping wound on his shoulder. Narcissa wanted to yell, ask why none of the nurses had bothered stitching it up but she knew the answer just by staring at the gash. It looked nothing like it was supposed to do. There was no red, only grey and black and Narcissa instinctively knew there had been poison in play. Robb was young and healthy, the wound would be healing already otherwise. 

Narcissa extended her hand, wanting to brush the hair away from his face but then she found her arm shaking in the air, merely inches away from his face and froze. Robb had promised her the Crag would be a mere formality, that he’d be back so soon she wouldn’t even notice that he was gone in the first place. She had seen injured men since the beginning of the war, more than she could count and though she took no pleasure in it, it never made her feel like she might just pass out. This was Robb, her Robb and for an instant, it was like her brain couldn’t, wouldn’t allow her to process the image in front of her until a bolt shot down her spine and she pulled back her hand as if she had just been burned. 

“Bring him to our tent!” She ordered loudly, trying to keep her voice steady though she wasn’t entirely sure it was working. 

Unsurprisingly, the men carrying the stretcher followed her orders and Catelyn rushed inside the tent with them. Narcissa stayed back, pulling Talisa aside with her, away from indiscrete ears. “What is causing that?” She asked, her voice kept low. 

“I believe it’s poison, my lady.” Talisa whispered back, her accent thicker than ever before as she wiped her blood covered hands on the white apron. 

“Do I look stupid to you?” Narcissa snapped and the tall foreign woman flinched at her tone. “What kind of poison?” She asked, calmer this time after taking a few deep breaths, knowing that being hotblooded would get her nowhere. 

“The others and I think the arrow was covered with dart frog poison,” Talisa said slowly, too slowly for Narcissa’s taste. “We tried everything but the fever won’t go down.” The nurse said, looking scared, knowing the implications behind her words. If the fever didn’t go down and the poison spread…

“Come with me,” Narcissa sighed with resignation, heading to the tent. She was no healer, far from it but she had spent all her life with her nose in a book in preparation for the High Tower and it better be useful now, or Gods be damned, she’d burn the whole of Westeros to the ground and kill Joffrey herself. 

She stepped inside the tent, Talisa close behind, only to find it crowded with people. Catelyn was silently sobbing next to Robb, two nurses were whispering between themselves and handful of soldiers stood there simply gaping. “I want everyone out but for Catelyn and Talisa,” Narcissa seethed, almost pushing the others out herself. 

Finally, everyone started leaving one by one and Catelyn lifted her head at Narcissa then. Her Tully blue eyes were bloodshot and deep creases had already started appearing around them. Her mother-by-law looked like she wanted to say something but Narcissa quickly turned away before she could. She was already panicking, her body was trembling and the back of her neck felt too warm. If she stared at Robb just one second longer, her judgment would be too clouded for her mind to work properly. 

Averting her gaze, Narcissa rummaged through her trunk before taking out the wooden box where she kept the medicine she had brought from Essos. “You won’t need any of this, but I’ll be calmer if you take it with you anyway,” Cosimo had told his daughter, watching the healer pack two boxes, one for her and for Gloria. 

“Keep giving him whatever you have given him so far for the fever,” Narcissa instructed, taking out two vials from the wooden box, hoping her memory wouldn’t fail her now. “Clean the wound with this, it should neutralize the poison,” she continued, handing Talisa the biggest vial. “And have him drink this too, for the fever.” She directed, placing both things in the nurse’s hands making sure she understood before walking away. 

“Where are you going?” Catelyn shouted, her voice cracking with tears. Against her better judgment, Narcissa turned around only to see the accusatory look on the woman’s face. And then her gaze darted to Robb. For a split second, she almost believed this was some sort of a very bad joke and he was only sleeping. But there wasn’t that peaceful look on his face that he always had when he slept and his curls were matted with sweat because of the fever. She felt her chest tighten and her vision blurry the longer she kept looking at him, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to cry or to scream, or maybe both. 

“I cannot stay,” she whispered softly, her teeth almost chattering even though she felt too hot. “I cannot stand to watch him like this,” Narcissa added too quietly for anyone to hear, before turning around again. 

“He is my son!” Catelyn yelled. “He is your husband! You have a duty to him!” 

The woman kept on shouting as Narcissa stepped out, wiping away the tears from her eyes before they could slide down her cheeks. She was a Medici, forged in Gold and Gold didn’t cry, but it did burn with anger. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa pulled open the flap, gesturing for Maege Mormont to step inside before doing the same. Seated around the council table, Umber, Bolton, Glover and Karstark were arguing animatedly, not noticing the Queen’s presence until she sat down at the head of the table. 

“Which one of you will bother telling me what the hell happened at the Crag?” Narcissa hissed, squeezing the armrests tightly as if that would calm down her anger at this point. 

“What are you doing here, your Grace?” Lord Karstark asked, his face one of surprise. “Shouldn’t you be by the King’s side?”

“I am not a nurse, Lord Karstark.” Narcissa said through gritted teeth, blood boiling inside her veins. “I am, however, your Queen and I asked you a question.” 

Karstark looked around the tent, hoping that maybe another lord would take over for him but no one did and he was left with no choice but to recount what had happened. They had expected the Crag to surrender, Lord Westerling had said as much in his letter. However, once there, they found that he had gathered his men instead. Robb had only brought two hundred of his men, not expecting to encounter resistance and it ended in a bloodbath in which he took a poisoned arrow to the shoulder, between the plates of his armor. 

Narcissa closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, hoping that it would somehow keep her from killing the men in her presence. “Gather five thousand of your men,” Narcissa ordered eventually, reopening her eyes only to notice that everyone was staring at her. “We ride back to the Crag in an hour.” 

“I’m not confident the King would approve of that, your Grace,” Lord Umber chimed in after a few seconds of complete silence. 

“If you had done your jobs properly, perhaps the King would be here to disapprove of my idea in person,” Narcissa remarked with sarcasm, putting the older man back into his place. “In his absence, my word is law.” 

Lord Umber nodded gravelly, somewhat surprised by her attitude. Next to him, Lady Mormont was smirking, most likely enjoying this new dynamic. Narcissa might have done too if the circumstances were different. Right now she was playing ruler only because her husband lay unconscious in their bed and the truth was, she’d much rather be curled up in a corner and cry, but she was queen now and with that title, came duties too. 

“With all due respect, your Grace,” Lord Bolton said calmly, nodding at her. “I believe our priority right now should be dealing with the prisoners. There are too many of them.”

Narcissa closely eyed the man with the receding hairline. No one would deny he was getting older, but old and weak weren’t synonyms, and his expression was merely proof of that. “Am I the King, Lord Bolton?” She asked curtly, making everyone in the tent raise their brows with confusion. 

“No, your Grace.” Roose Bolton replied hesitantly after a while, looking puzzled. 

“Are you the King, Lord Bolton?” Narcissa asked again. 

“No, your Grace.”

“Then why should either one of us go against the King’s express wishes in the matter and execute the prisoners?” The question was evidently rhetoric and the stern look on Bolton’s face showed her he was smart enough not to answer it. 

Narcissa instructed the commanders to gather up their men and their fastest horses. They had to take the Crag before the Westerlings could ask the Lannisters for reinforcement, or worse, inform them the King in the North was injured. Surely, they’d use their moment of weakness to attack. “And make sure that there are least ten guards with him at all times,” she added. 

Slowly, everyone stood up from their chairs, ready to go out and do as instructed, but Narcissa asked Lord Bolton to wait a moment. She saw the way he looked at her. There was discomfort, but also something much stronger in his deeply set eyes. 

“Tell me, Lord Bolton, how much do you hate me?” Narcissa inquired with a smirk, leaning back against the chair to observe the tall man in front of her. He had that kind of frightening look to him, the one that made people go silent and rise up as soon as he entered a room but she remained seated and ready to speak. 

“Your Grace?” Roose immediately blurted, brows furrowed on his ashy skin.

“Given the choice, would you first have me flayed and then raped, or the other way around?” The question took him by surprise but Narcissa noticed the way he didn’t seem horrified by the mere thought of it. Robb had told her just a few days ago that Lord Bolton didn’t appreciate her counselling the King in private. “Not a woman’s place or role” were the words the man had used. 

“First raped then flayed, your Grace” Bolton replied earnestly after a few seconds. He was bold, she had to give him that. “But worry not, I am loyal to your husband.”

“Good,” Narcissa smiled back before standing up from her chair. “I thank you for your candor, Lord Bolton.” She didn’t care if he hated her. Many people hated her simply for being a Medici, her own grandfather did and it had never bothered her. As long as Bolton was faithful to his King, she could live with that. 

Narcissa stepped out the council tent only to notice that the sun had set and evening was upon them. She wasn’t pleased to ride out in the darkness, but she didn’t have much choice. The sooner they departed, the sooner they’d be back. 

Walking across camp to the stables, she noticed Grey Wind was guarding their tent along with some guards. For a moment, she thought about going inside but then decided against it when she was close enough to hear Catelyn’s cries from inside the canvas. “If I go back there, I won’t have the willpower to leave,” Narcissa whispered, reminding herself that what she was about to do was much more useful than crying at his side. He had been given the proper medication, she had made sure of it, insisting that Talisa use as many vials as need be. Her presence would in there would be of no benefit to him. She wasn’t a phoenix and her tears didn’t have healing powers. 

At least, that’s what she kept reminding herself as she mounted her horse and left camp with part of the army, Clive and Travis riding by her side. The Crag was farther away than she had first expected and what she had hoped would be a couple of hours, took the entire night. 

-/-/-/-

“The Young Wolf sent you to negotiate with me?” Lord Westerling commented with a dry chuckle, eyeing her up and down with disdain. For someone whose house had lost so much wealth and prestige, he still remained a very proud man. “Am I not worthy of his presence anymore?”

Narcissa knew exactly what he was doing, referring to Robb’s injury in a derisive tone just to spike her. Sadly for Westerling, she had dealt with such mocking in the past when her father had been sent to exile and she was the only one capable of getting his sentencing removed. “I’m afraid from now on, you’ll have to content yourself with me.” She smiled politely, before stretching out her hand for the bald man to kiss. “I am Narcissa Stark, née de Medici and wife of whom you so affectionately call the Young Wolf.” 

Gawen Westerling didn’t kiss her hand. Instead, his chest erupted in a hearty laugh that made Travis’ hand tighten around the hilt of his sword. “He sends me his banker now.” Lord Westerling commented contemptuously before sitting down behind his desk and inviting her to take a seat. “Very well, then. How much are you willing to offer for our surrender?”

Narcissa cocked her eyebrow at him, but Gawen Westerling remained stern and this time, it was her turn to laugh. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression but money’s not on the table, Lord Westerling,” she derided, leaning back against the chair and crossing her legs. “I am here to present you with an ultimatum: Surrender peacefully or watch your men die.”

The old man stared her in the eyes, as if expecting her to look away and when she didn’t, he starting chortling loudly making Narcissa wonder whether he was always gleeful like this or if had merely had one cup too many already. “How many prisoners does your King in the North keep? Hundreds, thousands?” He leaned forward then, the corners up of his lips turned up smugly. “Even if I lost the battle, Robb Stark wouldn’t kill my men, he’d take them prisoners!”

Narcissa looked away from the man for a second, needing to calm herself down lest she try to have his throat cut in the presence of his guards. Though she had ridden through the entire night, the cold wind hadn’t been able to cool down her anger. “Your memory seems to be failing you, my lord,” she said flatly. “You’re not negotiating with the King in the North, Lord Westerling. You’re talking with the Queen in the North and rumor has it, she holds herself to much lower moral standards than her husband.” 

Narcissa watched as the bald man’s face lost its amusement and its color before standing up and walking around the desk until she stood just in front of him. “Of course, maybe those are nothing more than rumors,” she drawled, noticing how his scalp seemed to glistening and setting the papers down in front of him. “You can either find out how ten thousand Northerners fight, or you can sign these papers and live to see another day.” Narcissa said, dipping the quill in the inkwell and handing it to the old man. “I heard the weather will be good tomorrow.” 

Just as expected, a few minutes later they were all standing in the courtyard watching Lord Westerling swear fealty to the King in the North. Narcissa didn’t have ten thousand men with her, she had five thousand give or take a few. Ten thousand men would have taken too long to get ready and travel, and she had been scared of leaving the camp lightly defended when Robb was injured. But of course Lord Westerling didn’t have to know that. 

Narcissa ordered her men to gather up supplies and medicine to take back to camp, before deciding to leave six hundred men behind to dissuade Westerling from getting stupid ideas. It took them a little over an hour to be ready to go and Narcissa was growing increasingly impatient, to the point where she forced a faster pace on her horse than what she usually did. “I know you’re worried but he’s going to be fine.” Travis said reassuringly, riding next to her. 

“You don’t know that.” Narcissa snarled. She wasn’t irritated with Travis per se, after all, it was her who had asked him to accompany her, but the whole situation was getting on her nerves. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She apologized after taking a few deeps breaths. 

“You are my Queen, you owe me no apology,” Travis chuckled. “What you did in there, that was impressive!”

He didn’t shut up for the rest of the ride, telling her how he was born in Karhold to a large family, the younger of six brothers and sisters. How he once got lost in the Grey Cliffs with his older brother when he was only fifteen namedays old, and had to walk miles and miles in the cold until they came across a small village with an inn. “They had me washing dirty plates for hours in exchange for a small bowl of stew,” Travis laughed, recounting the story. 

“Poor little, Travis,” Narcissa teased. “Did you cry for mommy, too?” 

Her companion gave her a dirty look before a smirk took over his face. “No, a pretty, young waitress kept me good company.”

Narcissa knew what he was doing, trying to distract her with his childhood stories and she was grateful for it. It was a kind gesture but she couldn’t shake off the tightness in her heart as they got closer to camp. She was certain she had remembered the healer’s explanations and given Robb the right medicine. And yet, the worry was still there, clouding all her thoughts. 

Narcissa dismounted her horse as soon as they arrived, not waiting for help when she spotted Olyvar nearby, expecting her. “How is he?” She asked as soon as he was within earshot. 

“The fever broke this morning and the King woke up a couple of hours ago, your Grace.” The squire replied and Narcissa felt a heavy weight lift off her as soon as he said those words. Robb would be well and the Crag was theirs. 

She was starting to run to her tent when Olyvar caught her shoulder, making her stop dead in her tracks. “There’s something else, your Grace,” the blond boy gulped. “The Kingslayser escaped before the break of dawn with the help of Lady Stark.” 

Narcissa felt her eyes widen for a second as she processed what she had just been told before glaring at the squire even though he was not the one to blame. At this point, she had gone through too many emotions in less than twenty-four hours to remain poised. “How many men were sent in pursuit of Jamie Lannister?”

“Forty, your Grace. And the King sent another forty as soon as he woke up.” Olyvar said, squinting as if expecting her to latch out at him. 

“Good. You may retire for the night.” 

Narcissa watched him walk away before entering the tent quietly, not wanting to wake up Robb if he was asleep. Instead, she found him lying in bed, talking with Talisa who was mixing some medication on the table. 

“How are you?” Narcissa inquired immediately before turning to Talisa. “How is he?” She asked the nurse with urgency before Robb could even reply. 

“The fever broke. The wound appears to be healing, but it will need to be watched and cleaned daily,” Talisa explained before curtsying and leaving them alone. 

“Where were you?” Robb asked quietly, trying to sit up straight before wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I went to negotiate the surrender of the Crag,” Narcissa explained. She started removing her dirty clothes, afraid the grime on it might get his wound infected. “It’s ours now!” She announced proudly before joining him on the bed. She had been so worried, she almost couldn’t believe that he was truly doing better. Very carefully as not to touch his wound, Narcissa sat down on the bed before cozying up to him. 

“You shouldn’t have gone there alone!” Robb protested with more strength than Narcissa had believed him capable of in such a state. “That was reckless.” He chastised while pulling her closer to him with his uninjured arm and kissing her cheek. 

“I went with five thousand soldiers, not alone, Robb,” Narcissa clarified but she could see in his face that he was still not convinced. “It needed to be done before they could send word to the Lannisters.”

With her hand resting on his torso, she felt him take in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. His skin was still warm compared to hers but no longer abnormally so. “I was about to say that you should have sent someone else do it, but I was just betrayed by Theon and my own mother,” he murmured coarsely, wariness evident in his tone. “It seems you are the only person I can trust now.”

She heard the dejection in his voice then. In just a few days, he had been betrayed by his friend and most of all, by his own mother. Narcissa was furious with Catelyn and the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. Her mother-by-law had stopped speaking with her after finding out she had tried fleeing and now, she had done much worse by setting the Kingslayer free. “You can always trust me, you know that,” Narcissa whispered softly before kissing his lips, not expecting to find herself captive in his arms. 

Robb cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look into his Tully blue eyes which shone brightly in the dimness of their tent. The intensity of his stare was so fierce, she was about to avert her gaze when he finally spoke. “I love you, Narcissa.” He whispered, the edges of his lips softly turning upwards in an hesitant smile. 

Narcissa felt her cheeks burn beneath his palms and for the umpteenth time in the past couple of days, she found herself not knowing what to do. No one but her family had ever told her that. She was quite sure she was likeable to some extent, but nothing close to loveable. “No, you don’t,” she whispered back, trying to pry his hands away but he didn’t let go of her. “It’s the medicine talking.” 

“I do love you.” Robb insisted with a frown before kissing her chapped lips and after a few seconds of hesitation, she kissed him back just as passionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I proofread this a couple of times but since I’m really tired, there are bound to be many mistakes. Sorry! It is likely that the next chapter will be rather long and we will reach Harrenhal, finally! I feel like this story is moving so slowly but I have to keep reminding myself that the war actually lasted way longer than what the show leads on…
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, good or bad! I am always curious to know your opinions. 
> 
> And last but not least, I’ve been doing some research about ASOIAF and I was wondering: Do you think Robb has wolf blood?


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to start by thanking you for your support!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and it’s my favorite so far. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it! But be warned, it's really, really long… Oh, and I wrote most of it on my phone while stuck in traffic so there are probably some silly mistakes even though I proofread it.

“Well? What did he say?” Robb asked his mother urgently as soon as she stepped inside the council tent. 

Catelyn took a moment to brush back her hair before replying, well aware he wouldn’t be pleased. “Lord Walder has granted your crossing.” 

“And what does he want in return?” Robb had never met Frey but his reputation preceded him, and he’d never do anything out of the kindness of his heart. He just hoped the price was one he could pay. 

“You will be taking in his son Olyvar as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time.” 

“Fine, fine.” He immediately agreed, perhaps having a squire could even be useful. “And?”

“And Arya will marry his son Waldron when they both come of age,” Catelyn continued, her lips pursed. She wasn’t happy to marry off her younger daughter but if it was necessary to get husband back, she was sure Arya would understand. 

“She won’t be happy about that.” Robb commented, already having made his decision. Yet, his mother’s features didn’t relax and he instinctively knew there was more. “And?” He asked again, growing agitated. 

“And, before you cross, you will marry one of his daughters or granddaughters. Whichever you prefer. He has a number he thinks will be suitable.” Catelyn told her son, her contempt for Walder Frey obvious in her voice. 

Robb stood still at her words. He had been expecting it all along, Walder Frey was always eager to marry off his numerous offspring but somehow he had managed to push the possibility to the back of his mind. And even then, he thought he’d have some time to get used to the idea, at least until the fighting was done. 

“I see,” he finally sighed with resignation. “Did you get a look at the Frey girls?” Robb asked quietly as Theon quite indiscreetly sniggered next to him. It wasn’t a secret to anyone in Westeros that Walder’s daughters weren’t exactly blessed with beauty. 

“I did,” Catelyn nodded readily, wanting to reassure her eldest son. “One was sightly,” she said while looking pointedly at Theon. “Do you consent?”

“Can I refuse?”

“Not if you want to cross,” she stated with a sad smile. Robb nodded, silently accepting Walder’s terms and slowly, everyone started walking out, leaving mother and son alone. 

“What is her name?” Robb asked, sitting down again. He looked at the map spread out on the table, his eyes focused on the Green Fork. A wife for a bridge, he thought with little amusement. He wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of marrying – all his life, he knew that as the Lord of Winterfell, he’d have to take a wife. And from Theon’s brothel stories and his own couple of experiences, he knew that a woman’s company could be very pleasant. But the circumstances did give his impending marriage a bitter taste. 

“Narcissa. She is one of his granddaughters,” Catelyn explained reassuringly and he found himself pleasantly surprised that her name didn’t sound anything like Walder. “But you should meet them all and decide for yourself, Robb,” she said, leaning over the table so Robb would be forced to look at her instead of the map. “It will be your wife after all.” 

“No,” he quickly objected. The idea of going in there, meeting them all and having to make his choice based on a few looks and short conversations drove him sick to his stomach. “I trust your judgment, mother.” He said before seizing the pitcher and pouring two cups of wine. “What is she like?”

“I only spoke to her shortly,” Catelyn admitted after taking a sip. “But she was outspoken and clever.”

Robb chuckled curtly at the words. Those weren’t exactly the qualities he’d have first sought in a wife. Most likely he’d have chosen someone benevolent and kind. After all, she would be the mother of his children. “And what does she look like?”

Catelyn chuckled at her son’s question. She knew he’d ask that, all men did. “She has brown eyes and dark hair that doesn’t reach past her shoulders,” Catelyn said. That was the first thing she had noticed about the girl. “And with her ample bosom and proportionate hips, I’m certain she’s fit to bear children.” That was something she paid attention to, knowing of her sister’s difficulties in the matter made her wary of her eldest son marrying someone barren. 

Robb closed his eyes as if trying to imagine Narcissa in front of him but he couldn’t quite picture her and the description sounded too good for one of Walder’s granddaughters. Perhaps his mother was lying, but he hoped she wasn’t. 

-/-/-/-

“What are you doing?” Robb asked groggily after waking up the next morning, propping himself on his good arm to look at her. His shoulder still hurt like hell but he wasn’t going to worry her with that. 

“Writing a letter to Oberyn Martell,” Narcissa replied next to him without looking up from the parchment spread out on her lap, dipping the quill into the inkwell skillfully balanced on her knee. “I’m wishing him a happy nameday among other things.” She knew Robb wasn’t convinced an alliance between them would work, but had agreed that they had nothing to lose in trying. 

She felt his gaze on her as she continued writing and found herself distracted by it. “What are you doing?” She sighed, signing her name at the bottom. Her penmanship wasn’t as neat as usual without a proper support, but she couldn’t find the portable desk anywhere.

“I was thinking about you, about what you did with your mouth last night,” Robb admitted, his gaze falling on the skin that the bedcovers didn’t hide from his sight. Theon had told him about Ros doing that to him, but he had never experienced it himself until yesterday and he had to admit that his treacherous friend had been right. It really was something. 

Narcissa had panicked after said those three words to her the previous night. He had seen the anxiety in her big brown eyes and reassured her that he wasn’t expecting her to say it back, he knew she didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him back, after almost losing him and the worry that came with it, there was no doubt that she did, but saying it out loud like that made her feel too vulnerable and she couldn’t get herself to do it. Instead, she had decided to show her affection for him in a different way. 

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Narcissa smirked, leaping out of bed as naked as on her nameday to go melt some wax and seal the letter. Once again, she felt his stare on her and it would have made her self-conscious if he hadn’t repeated numerous times before how beautiful he found her. 

“Would you do it again?” Robb asked, the excitement rather obvious in his voice. It seemed the tiredness caused by the medicine had vanished, Narcissa thought. 

“Sure,” Narcissa replied, dropping some red wax on the parchment and pressing it with the wolf stamp, before turning to look at him and seeing the stunned but hopeful look on his face. “Not now,” she laughed out loud. “I just brushed my teeth.” 

At some point, she left their tent to go deal with war matters while Talisa came by to clean his wound. Everyone seemed to agree that the logical course of action was continuing the sack of the West, even Robb. She didn’t quite understand why but he explained to her that as a Warden and a Lord Paramount, not being able to protect your own lands weakened you in the eyes of everyone else. With that in mind, she teamed Umber with Glover, and Mormont with Bolton, figuring out that if they hated each other, they’d be less likely to pair up and go against Robb’s orders or hers. 

Then she had to deal with Karstark’s nagging about the Jaime and Catelyn issue. “Lord Karstark, you should focus on this war,” Narcissa sighed, cursing the arrow for hurting Robb and making her deal with this instead of him. “Once we’re back North, she’ll face trial and receive a proper sentencing. I promise you that.” 

She stopped by Catelyn’s tent to let her know her son was doing better. Her mother-by-law appeared genuinely relieved by the news, just like she had expected. Narcissa didn’t condone her actions but she could understand why she had done it. Her youngest sons were undoubtedly dead, her eldest had been severely injured and setting the Kingslayer free seemed like the only way to get her daughters back. It was stupid, yes, but Narcissa had been told mothers sometimes were irrational when it came to their children. 

-/-/-/-

“Rest as much as you can today, because tomorrow you’re back out there!” Narcissa warned as soon as she entered their tent again and noticed Robb’s bandage had already been changed. “I’m done with the whole lot of them.” She complained, struggling to keep her balance on one foot to take off her shoes. After her talk with Catelyn, there had been a dispute between some Manderly and Hornwood soldiers, something about stealing armors and in Robb’s absence, they had expected her to settle it. 

Narcissa was quite sure she wouldn’t mind running a keep, or perhaps even the whole North, if, and only if, there was no war and her husband was by her side. A bank seemed like a peaceful walk through a meadow compared to the chaos of war!

Robb chuckled. He knew what she meant. Every day, there was always some new issue on top of everything that was already going on with the war. “I’ll take over tomorrow,” he promised. As long as he took something for the pain, he’d be able to. 

“Good,” Narcissa nodded before sitting down on the chair by the desk and resting her feet on his lap. “Now rub my feet,” she ordered with a smile and Robb feigned being offended but complied nonetheless. 

He tried to tickle her, but quickly found that she wasn’t ticklish at all unlike him. He tried keeping it a secret, but couldn’t help squirming when she started tickling him. They spent the rest of their day together, something they had never done before. Their ‘honeymoon’ had been spent in a war encampment, Narcissa pointed out with amusement. 

Robb finally found out more about her, as she shared a few stories from her childhood with him. “You’re likely the most educated woman in Westeros,” he commented after she told him about her different preceptors and her crazy idea as a child, of having a horseless carriage. Then, their talks were followed by some fooling around when Robb lied about his wound and promised her that it barely hurt now. 

“This is how our first day as a married couple should have been,” he murmured that night when she was comfortably nestled against him. 

“Instead, we spent the whole day on horseback.” Narcissa laughed, remembering her pain. They had come a long way since then. 

-/-/-/-

Narcissa woke up before him the next day, which wasn’t surprising given the medicine he was under. She got dressed and then walked out to get a cup of boiling water. It must have really been quite early because camp was practically deserted. With her bounty in hand, she made her way to the tent and quietly brew herself some tea. 

The drink burned her throat as it went down but it wasn’t because of the temperature of it. Narcissa had barely managed to take a sip when she started coughing into her hand again and splashing it with blood, to the point where she felt like she was choking. 

“Are you alright?” She heard Robb’s concerned voice coming from the bed and cursed under her breath for having been so loud. Then she plastered a smile on her face and turned around. 

“Yes, I just burnt my tongue,” Narcissa lied quickly but Robb must have noticed her nervousness if the frown that appeared on his face was anything to go by. 

“Is that moon tea?” He asked suspiciously, eyeing the cup in her hand. “You’re coughing up blood because of the moon tea, aren’t you?” His words took her by surprise. How did he know about that? 

Narcissa quickly turned on her heels, surprised by his sudden accusatorily tone. “Maybe, I am not entirely sure,” Narcissa replied softly, her brows furrowed as she mixed the drink with a spoon. 

“You’re not going to deny taking moon tea?!” Robb blurted out with disbelief, sitting up straight in a single movement though he probably shouldn’t, considering his recent wound. “You are even drinking it in front of me!”

“Who told you about the moon tea and the coughing?” Narcissa inquired with curiosity, trying to keep her tone levelled, hoping it would keep the situation from escalating. 

“Talisa found those herbs when she searched your box for another vial of the antidote,” Robb said so quickly, the words almost blurred together. “I told her that she was wrong, that you’d never do that to me-” He didn’t finish his sentence, he didn’t need to. The veins pulsating in his temples and his flared nostrils were enough indication of his anger. 

That little bitch, Narcissa seethed internally thinking about Talisa. “You can’t seriously mean to tell me you’d want a child now,” Narcissa blurted out but Robb didn’t flinch, continuing to glare at her instead. “We are at war. War! You just got wounded by a poison-dipped arrow for Gods’ sake!”

“That’s exactly why I need a child, an heir!” Robb shouted even louder, towering over her now that he was on his feet. His younger brothers were both missing and Jon was a Snow, not a Stark, he couldn’t inherit Winterfell, especially after having taken the Black. He needed an heir. 

Narcissa closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, focusing on her breathing before looking at him again. “What you need is to win this war,” she said flatly. “And that’s what I am trying to help you achieve when I spend my days thinking of possible alliances!”

“I don’t need you to act as my political advisor!” His jaw was clenched and she found no warmth in his icy blue stare. “I need you to act as my wife and give me an heir, so that even if I die-”

Narcissa interrupted him before he could utter anymore idiocies. “And then what, Robb? You’d want me to rule as queen regent to a kingdom which is not recognized by anyone but the North and the Riverlands?” She felt her hands shake with anger and the fast drumming of her heart was too loud, but this was a subject she wouldn’t compromise on. “What you need to do is talk with the Tyrells, the Martells or even Stannis Baratheon and get yourself an alliance!”

Unlike she had expected, Robb didn’t yell back immediately as if truly considering her words. “You’re in no position to tell me how to win a war, woman!” He sneered with an authority he had never wielded against her and she found herself laughing nervously. 

“You’ve made a botch of everything but the battles, Robb!” Narcissa stated coldly, leaning against the table. “You are a proficient company commander but you have no head for politics and you won’t be able to win the war without learning how to play the game!”

“But you know how to play the game, don’t you?” Robb sniggered, tying up his doublet though she hadn’t even noticed him get dressed at all. “Lying is in your nature: First about your name and now about this!”

Narcissa stared at him, feeling offended and waiting for him to back his words but he didn’t. “If you wanted a broodmare, you should have married one of my aunts or cousins!” 

“Maybe I should have,” Robb nodded, grabbing his sword by the nightstand. 

She stared at him with incredulity as he walked past her to the exit. “Come on, Robb. Don’t go, don’t be childish!” She yelled after him but he didn’t turn around. 

Narcissa would never admit it out loud but she felt lonelier than ever the six or seven weeks that followed their argument. She hadn’t once talked to Robb since he left the tent during the fight. She had figured that he’d come back after a few hours, having calmed down but he didn’t and Narcissa spent the night alone, and the following ones too. 

On the fourth night, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to see him anymore and decided that an evening playing cards with her friends was what she needed. And yet, when she got back to her tent later that night and found most of Robb’s belongings gone, she felt a pang in her chest. 

With nothing much to do to fill her days, wine quickly became her best friend during the day and ale during the night when she played cards. “If he doesn’t want my counsel, then so be it,” Narcissa concluded, filling her glass before opening a book in her lap and reading through the night. And then she’d wake up feeling like hell in the mornings, sick to her stomach before doing it all over again. At least, she had ceased coughing up blood as soon as she stopped drinking moon tea, no longer having use for it.   
All she knew about the current state of war at this point, was what Travis, Clive and Edward told her in the evenings. There hadn’t been a big battle since Oxcross. Every castle they went, the lords would surrender without a fight. “I think the Lannisters have deserted the West,” Clive concluded one night. Knowing this, Narcissa wasn’t surprised when they started packing camp in order to go to Harrenhal. Especially now that the Tyrells had sided with the Lannisters, they shouldn’t risk remaining by the coast and being trapped on both sides. It also meant that the Martells were now their only potential allies but she hadn’t heard of Oberyn yet. 

The surprise came when they set camp in Pinkmaiden for a few nights in order to let the men and the horses rest. As usual, Narcissa’s tent had been one of the first to be set up, and as usual, she didn’t share it with Robb. The only thing which was out of the usual, was the letter she was handed to by one of the messengers on the first morning in Pinkmaiden. 

Dear Cissa,

You cannot fathom the happiness I felt after hearing from you again after so much time. I was very angered to read that Walder Frey married you off without your consent but I’m glad that you’ve managed to find happiness in it. My little Cissa is now a married woman, it makes me feel so old. 

Sadly, I cannot match your letter with good news of my own. First, I haven’t seen nor heard from Piero and Gloria. I do hope they have simply decided to desert our family and settle down somewhere together.  
Second, and I wish you could learn this in another way, but your mother has passed away. She fell asleep one night and her eyes never opened again. Please know that she loved you more than anything else in this world!  
She was buried in her favorite dress, the red one, in the family crypt. May her mind now find the peace she deserves. 

Do not worry about the sword. I have already lost the first of the only two girls in my life, and I shall not lose the second one, so help me God! As we speak, ninety ships are sailing to Westeros with hired sellswords from the Company of the Rose. I hope this will be sufficient. Please let me know

Narcissa tried reading it to the end but the tears pooling at her eyes obstructed her sight. She closed her eyelids for a few seconds, but the words didn’t change once she reopened her eyes. 

She stumbled backwards until her thighs collided with the bedpost but she barely noticed the pain. Your mother has passed away. The words repeated themselves in her mind over and over again. She tried to find a second meaning to them, read them in a way that didn’t mean her mother was dead but there wasn’t another meaning. 

Narcissa sat on the bed for what felt like hours, pinching the skin on her palm to keep herself from crying as she tried remembering the last time she had truly spoken with Amara without success. Slowly, sadness turned to anger as she realized that this was all her fault. If she hadn’t gambled, she wouldn’t have gone to Westeros and could have said goodbye. She hadn’t been able to tell her mother she loved her one last time because of a bloody sword and her own stupidity. 

With newly gained energy, she headed over to her trunk and took out the Valyrian Steel blade. It felt heavier than she remembered, her right arm shaking as she tried to hold up it straight in front of her. “Amara” The carved letters glistened in front of her and she felt the unexplainable need to throw it away, as far as she possibly could. Yet, the hilt never left her grip. Instead, she raised her left hand and brought it to the tip of the blade, pressing it against the pointy end until a thick burgundy liquid started dripping and then flowing out of her palm. 

She stared at it for a while, waiting for the pain but she felt nothing. She remembered sobbing the first time she had scraped her knees on the marble stairs or when Lorenzo had broken her finger, but now there was no pain, only spite and bitterness. 

Without bothering to cover up the wound, Narcissa walked out of her tent, dragging the sword behind herself. She wasn’t used to the new camp outline but it seemed anger improved her orientation and soon enough she found herself at the very edge where men were cutting and splitting wood for the fires. They all stopped to look at her but neither them nor her said a word as she struggled to drag a large chunk of wood away from the pile and place it on a tree stump. She stared at it for a moment and then grabbed the hilt of her sword, her hands slippery with blood and bringing it above her head for a second before driving it down into the wood with all her strength. To her sarcastic amusement, it didn’t split right in half like she expected it to. Instead, the blade was stuck and she had to fight to remove it. 

“Your Grace,” a man said carefully, slowly approaching her from her side. “You are hurting yourself.” He said, stretching out of his hand to grab the sword but Narcissa quickly pulled away. 

“Leave me be,” she said steadily, not a yell but loud enough to be heard before lifting up the sword and driving it down on the wood once more. “That’s an order.” 

Narcissa didn’t have to raise her gaze to know that the fellers were looking between themselves with hesitation. She was ready to shout at them but they complied before she had too. She drove the sword through the chunk a few more times, the muscles in her arms painfully strained now but she found enjoyment in it. She had failed miserably as a daughter and she deserved to suffer for that. 

“Narcissa!” 

She recognized his voice immediately, she would have recognized it among the loudest crowds. Without even being aware she had commanded her body to, she found herself lifting her head to look at him. He was jogging up to her despite being clad in his armor, his curls bouncing around his face. 

“What is going on?” He panted, once he was only a six or seven feet away from her. His gaze fell to her hands which were entirely red by now. “What are you doing?” Robb asked with weakly disguised horror as he approached his wife. 

Narcissa stared at him with panic as he came closer and without thinking, she drew the sword at him. Her arm was shaking heavily at this point but she forced herself to keep it upright. Robb stopped in his tracks. He was surprised but most of all, he was hurt by her reaction. 

“Go away!” She hissed, struggling to fight back the tears. She was barely coming to terms with the fact that she had failed as a daughter and each time she looked at him, only reminded her that she had also failed as a wife. 

“Cissa, let go of your sword and we can talk,” he pleaded, taking a few steps until the tip of her sword touched his breastplate. His hand went to push it away but Narcissa fought to keep in place. 

“Go away, Robb,” she implored with sadness though her tone sounded much harsher. Robb didn’t move away, instead he kept staring at her with his Tully blue eyes in the hopes she would meet his gaze. “Go away before I cut you, Robb!” She ordered, lifting the sword the tip grazed his chin. 

Narcissa looked at his face then. She had expected to find anger, but instead there was only hurt and sadness, and it made her feel even worse than before. She would never intentionally wound him, but at this point in their relationship, he wasn’t sure of it anymore. He had hoped he’d be able to understand what was going on by looking at her, but her expression was blank as she pointed her weapon at him. 

She watched him take a few steps back before turning around and walking away. A part of her wanted to beg him to come back and take her in his arms but she couldn’t muster the strength to do it. She didn’t deserve the warmth of his embrace. 

-/-/-/-

“They deserted their lands entirely, but for Casterly Rock,” Roose Bolton commented, stating the obvious and yet everyone nodded all the same. 

“And they’re sacking the Riverlands again,” Rickard Karstark added, grabbing a wooden lion from the table and throwing it against the canvas. 

Olyvar went around the tent, pouring everyone more wine but Robb covered his glass with his hand. His brain was already playing him tricks and alcohol wouldn’t help. He knew he ought to focus on the heated discussion, listen to his advisors and share his own ideas, and yet, all he could think about was Narcissa. 

Robb had been the one to walk away from the argument, too angry then to continue talking. First, there had been Theon. Then, there was his mother who to this day, was still confined in her tent, both as a punishment and as a safety measure. It was no secret that some of his men, Lord Karstark especially, wanted her head. And to top it all, he had found out his wife had secretly been drinking moon tea behind his back. 

He absentmindedly noticed Maege Mormont standing up and hammering her fist on the table, trying to get everyone to shut up but he didn’t even know what they had been talking about in the first place. 

He was still angry at Narcissa for that, but he no longer felt like he might raise his hand against her. That was why he had run out in the first place when he felt the anger boil inside him. And when he came back a few nights later to talk it out, he had found the tent empty and decided to retrieve his belongings. He’d thought that after a few weeks they might have cooled down sufficiently to discuss matters. Instead, she had threatened him with a sword just a few hours ago. 

It hurt. Not physically, the blade had barely touched his chin but it hurt deeper. Despite their rocky start, he had grown to love her the way a husband should love his wife. And she, she had refused to give him a child before drawing a sword at him. 

“Do you agree, your Grace?” Lord Umber asked, loud enough to bring him back from his thoughts. 

“What?” Robb blurted, quickly straightening up in his chair. How long had they been in here already? At least five hours if not more, he was sure of that. 

“We think it would be best to send ahead some scouts to Harrenhal so we know what to expect, your Grace,” Lord Bolton said, his irritation barely hidden. Ever since his injury and Narcissa temporarily taking over, Bolton seemed snappier than before. 

“Send two hundred men.” Robb ordered, wanting to end this meeting as quickly as possible.   
Slowly, the tent started emptying out and Robb allowed himself to close his eyes for a few seconds. He felt tired even though there hadn’t been a proper battle in what felt like ages and he actually found himself craving a proper fight. 

Sleeping in a tent among his soldiers wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but he had found his men to appreciate his presence in a way that made the barriers between the lords and the commoners crumble. 

But that wasn’t the only reason why he wasn’t sleeping well. He has won every battle and yet he was losing the war. Not only was the victory slipping away from his hands but his family was falling apart. His father was dead, his men were calling for his mother’s head, his brothers were most likely dead and his sisters were still prisoners. And now, he didn’t even have his wife to go to. He hadn’t noticed how much he needed her and her steadiness, until it was gone. Narcissa had been right, Robb mused with no amusement, he really had botched everything but the battles. 

“How am I supposed to be a good King when I can’t even hold my family together?” Robb groaned, holding his head in his hands, barely aware that words had escaped his mouth at all. 

“You already are a good King, your Grace.” A womanly voice said in a foreign accent, making him raise his head, hoping it would be his wife despite the different voice. 

Instead, Talisa stood by the entrance, her long brown hairs flowing freely past her waist. “Thank you, Lady Maegyr,” Robb finally said, once he came to terms with the disappointment. He should have known it wouldn’t be Narcissa, she didn’t need him as much as he needed her. “Can I help you with something?” He asked, eyeing the tall woman as she made her way around the table to him.

“Please call me Talisa,” she said a little too coyly before sitting down on a chair in front of him. “After hours of discussing war tactics with your commanders, I thought your Grace might appreciate a different kind of company.”

Robb forced himself to smile at her. It’s not that he disliked Talisa. They had spoken a few times since she had tended to his wounds. While he was still recovering, he even once tried making Narcissa jealous, telling her how Talisa had been a very attentive nurse but his wife had merely laughed at him. “If you’d prefer her over me, I wouldn’t even feel jealous. I’d feel sorry for your lack of judgment.” She had replied.

He listened to Talisa as she recounted the story of how a slave had saved her brother from drowning, which in turn, made her want to leave the slave cities once she came of age and do something more useful with her life than planning balls and masquerades. At some point, Robb actually found himself somewhat interested by her story. “I’m sorry, your Grace,” she said, standing up abruptly. “I’m certain you have more important problems to deal with and I blabbered on.” Talisa apologized though she made no move to walk away.

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to help me with any of my problems, Talisa.” Robb said with an apologetic smile, pouring himself some wine after all. 

“Perhaps I could help you forget them for a while, your Grace.” Talisa simpered, making him frown with confusion until he saw her untie the laces on the back of her dress. 

He should have said something then, told her to stop or thrown her out altogether but her grey dress was already pooling at her feet before any words could leave his mouth. She stood naked in front of him, and he wouldn’t deny her being attractive even though he knew it was wrong. 

“What are you doing?” Robb murmured despite already knowing the answer. Even if he hadn’t, the way she strolled over to him and sat down on his lap was more than explicit. Talisa took his hands and placed them on her waist before leaning forward to kiss him. 

It felt different without the taste of wine on her lips. Narcissa always tasted of wine. Talisa was insistent too, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him closer to her. Robb wanted to push her away, he knew he should, but closing his eyes, he could imagine it was Narcissa kissing him and rocking her body against his. How he missed her, kissing her, touching her. He missed the simple feel of having her close to him, the goose bumps that appeared on her skin after his touch. His grip on her waist tightened as the kiss deepened until he lifted one of his hands to fist her hair but it felt too long under his fingers, making him reopen his eyes. He stared at Talisa with horror, pulling back from their kiss as he realized what he had just done. 

Robb pushed Talisa off him forcefully, making her stumble backwards with surprise. He stood up from his chair as if he had been burnt and glared at the nurse with disgust. “I never want to lay eyes on you again, Lady Maegyr,” Robb sneered, walking away from her as fast as he could. “That’s a warning.” 

The cold air of the night hit his face as soon as he stepped outside. He welcomed it, even hoping that it would help him forget what had just happened but he wasn’t that lucky. How he could have kissed Talisa when he was in love with his wife, was beyond him. Even if they had barely spoken in over a moon, Narcissa was his and he had no excuse to disrespect her like her that. 

As if on cue to make him feel even more guilty, Robb saw Clive, one of Narcissa’s friends, hurriedly walk over to him. Did he know what just went on in the council tent? Was he there to punch him in the face? Maybe Robb would let him. 

“It’s about your wife,” Clive announced, with no regard for formalities. 

“What about her?” Robb asked immediately, a mixture of guilt and worry now taking over him. 

“She received a letter this morning – her mother passed away.” 

-/-/-/-

Her left hand was wrapped in a white bandage. There was a small red stain on the gauze but it hadn’t grown larger in hours. Now that the rage was gone, she had to admit that it did hurt, especially as she fastened the laces of her black dress. It was the only black dress she had taken with her from Florence. The shade always made her look ghostly and she found that black kept her too warm, but it was the color of mourning. 

The wine pitcher was already half-way empty when her friends joined her in her tent that evening. Clive looked like an elephant in a porcelain shop as he took in his surroundings. It was the first time she had invited them to her tent, usually it was the other way around but tonight, she didn’t want to step out and let the others see the purple circles around her eyes. She didn’t know much of what been a queen entailed, but she was quite sure appearing strong was one of the prerequisites. 

Narcissa asked to have the food brought in and Travis made a point of serving her before himself. She appreciated the gesture though she wasn’t really hungry. In all honesty, she had only asked them over because she didn’t want to be alone tonight. And thankfully, they knew better than to comment on her appearance. 

The four of them chatted together, mostly about the war. Edward was higher ranked in Umber’s army so he had some knowledge of what was going on. “The Lannisters have entirely withdrawn from the West and they’re attacking the Riverlands again,” Edward said between two bites. “The Mountain has seized control of the Stone Mill.”

Narcissa was glad to listen to the updates. Since her fight with Robb, she was no longer aware of the current state of affairs and now, it actually proved a welcome distraction. “If the Mountain crosses the Red Fork, he will be surrounded by the Starks and the Tullys.” She commented, trying to picture the map in front of her. 

“That is what his Grace intends to do,” Edward nodded. To Narcissa, hearing that only meant that Robb didn’t need her. 

They finished their meal in silence before Narcissa took out the deck of cards and they started playing. She was trying to count the cards in her head, to memorize which ones had already been played but her mind wasn’t being as efficient as usually. 

“Why are you dressed all in black?” Travis asked boldly as Clive shuffled the cards. They all looked up at her. Perhaps neither Clive nor Edward would have dared asking it, but they had both noticed. 

Narcissa bit her lips, wondering if she should lie but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to. “I received a letter this morning,” she said flatly. “It said that my mother passed away.”

They all immediately offered her their condolences and Narcissa was forced to smile weakly, uncomfortable with the attention and the way they were now tiptoeing around her. The next few rounds were played in silence and she regretted confiding in them. She had hoped for distraction, not a pity party. 

“I remember when my mother died,” Clive said after a silence so long, his low voice felt like a shout. “My wife could barely disguise her joy,” he said, laughing and the mood slowly lifted again. She found out Clive was the father of two children, a boy and a girl. Edward had just gotten married a couple of days before the war and he left his wife with his parents when he went South. 

Narcissa found herself listening intensely to their stories. She knew countless soldiers had already died and many more would still die, but she had never dwelled on the fact that these men were more than just numbers. She only hoped that her friends would return home safely. 

“I apologize but it’s getting a little too late for me,” Clive said at some point, standing up. “Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives, your Grace,” he added with a smile. “I’m sure your mother would be proud of you.”

Narcissa couldn’t help the frightened look that appeared on her face when she realized she would be left alone for the night as Edward stood up as well and left the tent with Clive. From the corner of her eye, she watched as Travis walked up to the exit but much to her surprise, his simply shut the flap as to keep the wind from getting in before joining her at the table again. 

“Thank you, Travis,” she whispered and he gave her a small smile. They went on talking about everything and anything, and Narcissa knew if he was only staying to keep her company despite most likely being tired, but she appreciated the gesture all the same and decided to pour them some more wine when she noticed the pitcher was empty. 

Without a word, she stood up and went to grab another one from the desk. Her arm still hurt but she was determined not to let it show. Narcissa was just about to tilt it over the cups when she felt a hand on her waist, making her jump. On instinct, she turned around only to be met with Travis’ lips on her own. She almost let the pitcher fall with surprise until her brain was able to process what was going on and she pulled away from Travis, her back hitting the desk. 

“What are you doing?” She whispered, brushing back the few strands of hair that had fallen on her face and setting the pitcher down. 

Travis was eyeing her intensely with his grey eyes and Narcissa found that he looked different, though she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was different. “I am finally kissing the woman I love,” he murmured before closing in the distance between them and cupping her face to kiss her again. 

Narcissa was startled by his action even though he had moved slowly. She had the time to move away but didn’t, but couldn’t find it in herself to do it. His lips were gentle and she enjoyed the way she felt loved beneath them. The entire day she had spent hating herself and now someone was loving her. It was exactly whom she wanted to be loved by, but after such a day, she’d take anything. Closing her eyes, she grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. Travis moaned under her lips, sliding his hand down her body until it reached the small of her back and pulled her closer to him. Narcissa didn’t protest as they tumbled against the desk, the pitcher and the glasses making a rattling noise. 

His lips left hers, moving lower to kiss her neck instead. Narcissa shut her eyes tightly, waiting for the familiar feeling of the beard brushing over her skin but there was nothing. She moved her hand up his neck only to feel straight strands beneath instead her fingers of curls and stopped dead in her tracks. As she realized what was happening, she pushed him away with all her strength. Travis had a confused look on his face when he stared at her, panting. 

“This is wrong and should never have happened.” She stated quietly yet firmly, regaining her breath. “I am married to your King,” Narcissa whispered, thinking about Robb as guilt took over her mind. 

“A King who hasn’t shared your bed in weeks,” Travis objected with a clenched jaw. “You haven’t even spoken to each other in ages!”

“That doesn’t change anything.” Narcissa protested, grabbing at the desk’s edge behind her until her knuckles turned white and she could feel blood leaking from her wound again. 

“Look at how miserable he left you,” Travis argued, vaguely gesturing at her as anger rose in his voice. “Do you think I haven’t noticed how you drink yourself to sleep every night? How you are always sick in the mornings because of that?” 

Narcissa could faintly hear him continue his rant but she was no longer paying attention. He was wrong. She didn’t drink herself to sleep every night. Yes, she always had a cup or two with her supper but not enough to make her feel sick in the mornings, not with her built up tolerance for alcohol. And yet he was right, she did start most of her days crouched over the chamber pot. She closed her eyes to focus and counted back the weeks since she had last bled, only to notice with shock that she didn’t even remember anymore. 

“Leave.” She ordered softly, when she realized what that meant and panic began to spread in her body. The back of her neck was starting to feel very warm and she felt sick all over again just to think about it. 

“I’m not leaving,” Travis refused, looking at her with worry now. “You deserve to be loved,” he said as he moved closer to her once more. 

“Leave!” She said again, more strongly through clenched teeth. Leave or I might just throw up on you, she wanted to say. 

“You heard your Queen,” Robb’s voice thundered in the small tent, startling them both. Narcissa turned to look at her husband, feeling like she might actually faint. She was equally relieved and scared to see him there. 

Travis eventually pulled away from her and Robb couldn’t decide if he should throw him out himself or simply behead him. The lean soldier brushed past him on his way out but Robb only had eyes for his wife at this point. She looked shaken and he wondered with anger if that man had tried to force himself on her but Narcissa slowly shook her head, as if she had heard his thoughts. 

She tried to keep herself from trembling, but failed miserably. She could never have expected to find out on the same day, that her mother had died and that she, herself, would be a mother. “What are you doing here, Robb?” She asked, her voice too quiet to hide her the turmoil inside her. 

Robb stared at her silently with concern. Narcissa, who was always so steady and level-headed, was fighting to keep herself upright against the desk. He wanted to approach her, take her in his arms but he wasn’t sure she’d let him after their altercation this morning. “Clive told me about your mother,” Robb confessed softly, afraid that he’d scare her if he spoke too loud. “I’m sorry, Narcissa. I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

He knew firsthand how overwhelming it was to lose a parent, especially without being able to say goodbye. But Narcissa being Narcissa, he hadn’t expected to find her on the brink of falling apart. He had seen her happy, worried, angry even, but now she just looked vulnerable.

“Your words won’t bring her back but I appreciate it,” Narcissa almost whispered, giving him a sad smile. She then looked at him for a long time, as if hoping that he’d understand what was going on inside her with just a look, a stare but Robb seemed as confused as she felt. “You’ll be happy to know that your ships and your men an on their way.” She added, with closed eyes, trying to forget what she really wanted to say. 

Narcissa didn’t hear him move at all until she felt his arms around her, hugging her. “I don’t care about that, Narcissa. I care about you.” Robb said and carefully wedged her head against his torso, cradling her. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips as he felt her shorter hair between his fingers instead of the obnoxiously long strands. He had expected her to sob but she remained absolutely still against him, to the point where he wondered if she had somehow managed to fall asleep on her feet. 

She pulled away from him when he no longer expected her to even be awake. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to look at him and almost cried with happiness when she saw his familiar blue eyes. He was the only constancy in her life at this point and Narcissa found herself longing for him after so much time. 

“Fuck me.” She eventually said, louder than she had intended to. 

“What?” Robb stared at her, his brows furrowed as if she had just grown a second head and it made her chuckle despite everything that was going on, despite having just found out the moon tea hadn’t worked. 

“Fuck me, Robb,” she repeated boldly, closing in the space between them. Robb was still dumbfounded at her choice of words when he felt her fingers swiftly undo his the laces of his breeches and shirt at the same time. “Fuck me until I can no longer think.”

It took him a second to process what she was asking of him but when he did, he didn’t waste any time before lifting her off the ground and carrying her to bed, their bed. It felt like a sin, taking her forcefully like that when she appeared so defenseless but the gentler he tried to be, the more she pressed him to go harder and eventually, he obeyed. 

Their foreheads touched as he rammed into her as if their lives depended on it, and the way it made him feel, his life most likely did. He had longed for her for so long, he could barely believe he was feeling her beneath him, around him again. At some point, he noticed a single tear sliding down her cheek, making him immediately go still when it reminded him of their wedding night when he had hurt her. Only this time, she locked her ankles against his butt and pulled him down for a kiss, urging him to move again until she couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming sensation in her lower belly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I didn’t lie: It was really, really long.   
> Let me know if you enjoyed it! I am especially curious to know your opinions of this chapter because I liked writing it a lot. Don’t forget to comment :)


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has commented, liked, followed etc.: THANK YOU!!! IT MEANS A LOT!
> 
> Here is chapter 12! Sorry for keeping you waiting so long but exams are fast approaching (like next week) and I have a little less time to write. I will however do my best to update regularly, at least once weakly. 
> 
> Also, some parts of this seemed rushed and I apologize for that, but although they are important I just didn’t feel they were interesting enough to write about them at great lengths. 
> 
> There is A LOT of Robb/Narcissa in this chapter and also many mistakes because I'm so tired, my eyes start tearing up as soon as I try proofreading.

Robb had already left when she woke up the next day and she was thankful for that for it meant that he didn’t notice her sickness. He was most likely helping his men pack up camp since they were now only a few days’ ride away from Harrenhal and the men were eager to reach the fortress and plan an attack. Even when she was out of the loop, she hadn’t failed to notice the waning morale of the soldiers after a lack of decisive victories in months. 

Much to her dismay, riding for hours on end wasn’t a particularly captivating exercise and her mind was left to torment her without relief. There was nothing to distract her either – looking ahead, she only saw men holding banners as they rode their horses, looking back, it was the same except there were no banners. Nothing to distract her, that is until Catelyn rode up to her and asked if they intended to speak to each other soon, or remain silent until death do them part. Narcissa chuckled drily, Catelyn didn’t know they had spent the night together. 

Most likely she hadn’t meant to upset her either but nonetheless, her words still resonated in Narcissa’s ears. It wasn’t as much as what her mother-by-law had said, nor the allusions in between the words. Talisa eyed Robb with preying eyes, at this point everyone in camp had noticed it, even Narcissa but she trusted Robb enough to remain faithful to her. Maybe she was stupid for trusting him so blindly, but she felt certain that he’d never risk dishonoring her by producing a bastard. Not if he respected and she was quite sure he did.   
No, what had bothered her was that even Catelyn who was still held as a prisoner, had noticed the awkwardness between her and Robb. It was as if they had been brought back to the early days of their marriage: The days were spent riding with very few words exchanged. She knew why Robb was avoiding her, the reason was obvious enough – the fear that if they talked too long, the same argument would arise again and they’d fall apart. Narcissa in turn was avoiding him because she was still coming to terms with what she had discovered. 

Her mother had always told her that she felt happiest each time she had been with child, loving the babe as soon as she had found out about it. Narcissa didn’t. The news had made her feel conflicted and constricted, and she had bitten through all her nails already. She had been so convinced with the moon tea’s effectiveness that she had never even entertained this possibility. At least not for many years. 

The truth was she didn’t even know if she liked children or not. She had just celebrated her second nameday when her youngest brother was born and had never otherwise spent time with children. Becoming a mother had never been a dream or an expectation, and yet now it was too late and she feared that she would fail at this role as well. 

Those were thoughts that crossed her mind incessantly during the day, riding her horse with nothing to distract her. And then she’d lie awake still and silent in bed at night, hoping Robb wouldn’t notice her internal conflict. Though as the fourth day turned into the fourth evening, Narcissa was determined to just get it over with in the hopes of finally having a good night’s sleep. An heir was what he had wanted all along, so he would be happy, wouldn’t he?

“Pull yourself together already, Narcissa,” she whispered to herself before hurriedly walking through the very temporary encampment to find Robb. She turned around the corner to find Lord Karstark exiting the council tent and took a deep breath before striding confidently inside the tent. Just like a band-aid, she decided, pull it off in one swift motion. 

“Robb, I’m –” Narcissa announced loudly, stepping inside the shelter only to realize Robb wasn’t alone. Instead, she found him in what seemed to be a lighthearted conversation with Lord Bolton and Lord Umber, who all immediately turned to look at her, surprised by her abrupt entrance. 

“You are…?” Robb asked with a cocked eyebrow, barely able to disguise his amusement at her antics, especially when he saw her blush, something that rarely happened if ever. 

Narcissa felt the men’s stares on her as she looked around the room with panic. For some reason, she had thought he’d be alone but she should have known better. “I’m thirsty,” she said much lower, walking over to the table and pouring herself a drink from the pitcher. They were all still looking at her as she brought the cup to her lips only to gag when she found out it was ale, even though she usually enjoyed the taste. 

“Are you alright?” Robb asked with concern, standing up and walking over to her before taking the cup from her hands and setting it down on the table. He had noticed her look somewhat distraught ever since she had found out about her mother’s passing, but he had thought she’d be coping better after a few days. 

“Can you take a walk with me?” Narcissa almost pleaded, eyeing the two men behind him. They seemed to be paying too much attention to their conversation. “We need to talk.”

Robb felt the small hairs on his nape stand up at her words, anxiety rising in him, but he excused himself from his men nonetheless before leading her outside. The air was chilly, but as usual, she barely even seemed to notice. They walked side by side, Narcissa leading the way until he felt they were straying too far from the tents and pulled her closer to him until she was halfway wrapped in his own cloak. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Robb asked warily, his breath forming a white cloud in front of his mouth. Winter was indeed coming. 

Narcissa remained quiet for a moment, trying to come up with the proper way to put it into words. “The moon tea,” she sighed and wetted her lips, “it didn’t-” She had the whole sentence planned out in her mind, but he interrupted her before she could finish. 

“You won’t be drinking none of that poison anymore,” Robb stated with authority, looking straight ahead, expecting her disapproving stare. He had had time to think long and hard about it, and his decision was final. He allowed Narcissa her independence, more than most husbands did, but she was his to protect and he wouldn’t compromise on it. “I won’t allow you to drive yourself ill. If the idea of having a babe repulses you so much, then I shall not lie with you again but I refuse to let you jeopardize your health.”

Narcissa opened her mouth to say something but no sound came out. Out of all the things she had expected him to say, she hadn’t seen those words coming. How she had deserved a husband this caring she didn’t know, but one thing she now did know without a doubt, was that she loved him.   
“Would you really do that for me?” She whispered so softly, he almost didn’t hear her voice through the sound of their steps. 

“Aye,” Robb chuckled, pulling her even closer to his chest. “The idea doesn’t appeal to me in the least, but your health is paramount.” The truth was he couldn’t even imagine not making love to her again, but if that was the price to pay to make sure she stopped coughing up blood, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Though not his intention, his words had made Narcissa feel guilty for her previous selfishness. He was ready to put his wishes aside for her sake, and she had refused to do the same. “You really want to be a father, huh?” She asked softly, more to herself than to him. From Catelyn’s stories, she knew Robb had always been an amazing older brother, readily looking after his younger siblings whenever necessary. Maybe his warm nature would be able to make up for her lack of motherly instinct. 

“It’s not just about an having an heir,” Robb sighed, somewhat uneasy with the question as he didn’t want getting anymore attached to a fantasy that seemed very unlikely now. “It’s about having a son, a daughter that is as much yours as mine. The idea of teaching a little boy how to wield a sword or show a baby girl through the glass gardens of Winterfell warms my heart.” He admitted earnestly. Those were images that had crossed his mind rather often since falling in love with Narcissa. “And if one day you change your mind, and I hope you do, I’ll do my best to figure out how to be as good as father as Ned was to me.” 

The way he spoke about it made it all sound appealing. Whenever Narcissa had thought about her pregnancy in the past few days, it was in terms of painful childbirth, infantile diseases and all the ways it could go wrong, but she had to admit that looking at it through his eyes made it all look a lot less dire. “Well, you have around seven moons to figure out how to be a good father,” she said as a faint blush crept upon her cheeks though he couldn’t see from his position. 

Robb gently hummed in agreement next to her, his pace unchanged. Narcissa found his lack of reaction peculiar but she decided that no reaction at all was still better than anger, even if she was almost disappointed by it. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

“What now?” She heard him ask softly, the words barely audible and yet the disbelief was still discernable. Almost at once, Robb pulled her closer by her waist, making her look up at him. His blue eyes were shining differently as he cupped her face between his cold hands. “Are you,” he breathed out, his voice cracking, “are you telling me that you are with child?”

“Yes, Robb, that’s what I said about two minutes ago,” Narcissa joked with a smile when she saw Robb’s face become one of glee when he finally realized what she had meant. Suddenly, it was like the war had disappeared from his features, the hard edges vanished and replaced with a large smile that brightened up his whole face instead. 

When she had told him they needed to talk, he had expected anything. That perhaps she would tell him that she was in love with that friend of hers or that she wanted to go back to Florence, but even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t allowed himself to hope for these news. He was going to be a father, going to have a child with the woman he loved. There were so many things he wanted to say then and yet only one word came out. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Narcissa chuckled, removing his hands from her face to kiss them before warming them up between hers. “It seems the young wolf’s essence overpowered the moon tea.” She laughed, feeling lighter now that a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“I love you, Narcissa,” he murmured before leaning forward to kiss the top of her forehead. Gods, was she beautiful like this, and truly his now, carrying his child. “Tonight, tomorrow and every day for as long as I shall live.”

Narcissa bit her lips at his words, maybe this was the moment to finally say it out loud, the moment to come clean about her feelings. “I love you too, Robb,” she admitted, gently pushing him away from her so she could look him in the eyes when she said it. “I have loved you for a while now and until the sun rises in the West and sets in the East, until the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves, I shall never stop doing so.” 

He kissed her then, in the darkness, sweetly and gently as if she were made of dragon glass – too precious to risk breaking it. Narcissa tried to deepen the kiss but Robb didn’t allow her to. Instead, he picked her up in his arms and started walking back to camp. When she asked what he was doing, he replied that now really wasn’t a good time for her to catch a cold. 

Once inside the shelter, Robb carefully sat her down on the bed before turning around to go close the flap properly and light some candles. Silently, Narcissa grabbed her nightgown from the trunk and started undressing when she noticed him staring at her, or more precisely, at her belly. “It’s too early to be noticeable yet, Robb,” she chuckled but the truth was, ever since she had known, she woke up every morning expecting there to be a bump only to exhale deeply when there wasn’t one yet. 

“I know. But I can’t wait until it is,” he said grinning, slowly approaching her before laying one of his hands flat on her belly. “We’ll need to find you some new dresses soon, for when you’ll be too big to fit inside yours.” He teased. Narcissa wanted to live up to her reputation and show some repartee, but she was surprised to find herself at a loss for words and averted her gaze. It wasn’t the gain of weight that scared her, but the realization that everything would change. “Are you unhappy?” Robb asked in a serious tone when he saw her expression. 

At his words, she realized that she hadn’t really asked herself that question since finding out and facing it felt oddly exposing. She took the time to think it over before replying. “I remember being dead set against marrying you and now I’m happiest as your wife. I expect it will be the same once the baby is here,” Narcissa said reassuringly, afraid her reaction had spoiled his joy. “Besides, your words and your happiness have already made me warm up to it.” Maybe once they were safely in Winterfell, she could stop worrying and let herself enjoy it.

They got ready for bed together and she helped him off his clothes. It’s not that he required her help, but he enjoyed the feeling of her fingers against his skin too much to refuse. He had missed her touch too. Truth be told, he had avoided being alone with her again after the night she had found out about her mother’s passing because he was afraid they’d start arguing again. Instead, he had now found out he was going to be a father and no other news could have made him happier. 

Narcissa let herself be pulled into Robb’s arms as soon as they lied down without protesting about feeling too hot. Her pregnancy might not have rejoiced her as much as him, but seeing him like this brought her happiness. He had lost so much already and if she could bring him some joy, then it was definitely worth it. 

“Promise me one thing,” Robb whispered, not truly waiting for her to reply. “If things go wrong and you become a widow,” he continued, trying to put it gently but he still felt her flinch against him. “Promise me you’ll jump into the first ship sailing to Essos and go back to Florence, to safety.”   
She had been right when they had first argued about it all those weeks ago. If he died, the Lannisters would target her and the child. He wouldn’t put it past them to target a pregnant woman. A need for revenge and justice had driven him into this war, but Narcissa’s safety trumped all that. 

“You won’t die.” He heard her say firmly against his chest. “As your wife, I forbid you to die until you are at least a hundred years old, and even then, you’ll have to ask for my permission first,” she jested, but even her determination wasn’t enough to complete erase the gloom that the mere thought of this possibility brought to her. 

“Promise me.” Robb insisted, caressing her hair and holding her tighter if that was even possible at this point. He would give up his life for her without a second thought, but he wasn’t sure he could trust all his bannermen to do the same. 

“I promise,” she whispered back, looking into his eyes. “If the worst happened, I’d go back to Florence.” I’d go back to Florence, long enough to give the Lannisters a false sense of security and then she’d cut off their heads and use their skulls as lanterns, she promised herself. 

-/-/-/-

Much to her dismay, Robb now insisted he was the only one allowed the help her on and off her horse, because he couldn’t trust any of his men to be careful enough. Narcissa wanted to point out the ridicule of it but kept herself from doing it. “Whatever floats his boat,” she sighed, riding at the front of the cortège but still behind the Vanguard and close enough to Robb so that he could keep his eyes on her at all times. He had always been protective but this was beyond words. 

Catelyn rode next to her, under the hateful stares of the soldiers and Narcissa felt pity for her. She still believed her mother-by-law had acted foolishly but her intentions were defendable. The brunette looked to her side at the red-head, hoping to strike a conversation and pass the time when she noticed the older woman sported a knowing smile. 

“You know.” Narcissa whispered with outrage, staring at her riding companion with parted lips. 

“I do,” Catelyn replied, addressing her a bright grin that pulled up her cheeks. 

“He can’t keep a secret,” Narcissa wheezed, turning her head to give Robb a cold glare. He had known it for less than twelve hours and already he had told someone. 

Catelyn chuckled next to her. “He was never good at keeping secrets, even as a boy.”   
And for the rest of the ride to Harrenhal, she didn’t stop talking to the point where Narcissa might have preferred a boring silence. Narcissa tried to get her to keep her voice down as Catelyn told her about her pregnancies, the childbirths and very specific details she wouldn’t ever be able to forget, even if she washed her mind with bleach. After the break, she asked Robb to ride further back, close to Clive just so she could avoid any more of those talks. 

To say that Harrenhal was a disappointment would have been a crude understatement. She knew Robb and his men had been waiting for a fight but when they reached the fortress, they found it deserted but for the two hundred dead Northeners littered inside the castle grounds.   
Jeremy Mallister, one of the Tully’s bannermen was among them but Narcissa’s eyes remained focused on the dead horses. Seeing that hurt her more than anything else. This was a men’s war and yet horses were slaughtered all the same. 

She tried to approach one of the dead animals, at least to close its eyes but the pungent smell of death filled her nostrils and nausea hit her harder than ever before. Robb had hoped she would be able to sleep inside the walls of Harrenhal, in a proper bedroom despite the ruinous state of the castle but even after all the corpses had been cleaned, Narcissa still couldn’t bear the smell of death. It was everywhere, lingering in the air until you couldn’t help but choking on it. 

Even in their tent that evening, death managed to find its way in as Bolton stepped inside unannounced, interrupting their supper. 

“Pardon me, your Grace, my Queen,” Roose droned, successively giving Robb and Narcissa a curt nod before holding out two pieces of parchment. 

Robb left the table with barely disguised annoyance before walking over to the tall man. “Let me guess which one is the good news.”

Narcissa heard Bolton sigh, something which was very unusual for the gloomy man. “Word from Riverrun and Winterfell,” he said gravelly. 

The smile that hadn’t quite left Robb’s lips since he found out he was going to be father, faltered then for the first time. Hoster Tully, his grandfather, was dead but more importantly, Ramsay Snow had arrived in Winterfell too late and Theon had already left with his Ironborn men. The keep had been burned down and no one had found Bran nor Rickon. 

Narcissa couldn’t bear to look Catelyn in the eyes the following day as they rode to Riverrun, having left Lord Bolton and his men garrisoned at Harrenhal. She remained a silent listener as Catelyn cried and manufactured a wheel of prayer for her sons, in the hopes it would keep them from harm’s way. Robb had tried giving his mother hope, saying that his brothers were most likely alive given that their bodies hadn’t been found, but even as she prayed, she expected the worst and Narcissa couldn’t blame her for that. Everyone expected the worst, they just mostly kept it to themselves and carried on because truly, there was no alternative.

As they started approaching Riverrun, Narcissa fell in love with the scenery. The river, the meadows and the most beautiful castle she had ever seen. If Winterfell was half as beautiful as Riverrun, then Narcissa was sure she’d be able to feel at home in the North. 

“Why are you smiling?” Robb asked with a smile of his own, suddenly appearing next to her on horseback. At this point, he was willing to take any happiness he could get and watching her smile made him happier than he could have ever imagined. 

“I’m sorry,” Narcissa immediately said when she spotted him next to her. “I know I shouldn’t be smiling but I can’t help thinking that tonight we will be sleeping on a proper bed, in proper chambers and I’ve missed that kind of comfort.”

“The only time you and I have shared a featherbed was on our wedding night.” Robb remembered, and felt guilty as soon as he did. Narcissa would most likely be sleeping in her luxurious bedchambers back in Florence if it wasn’t for him. 

“It is not your fault, Robb,” she said at once as if she was able to hear his thoughts. “My home is wherever you are. And if you are in a war encampment, then by the Gods, I shall elect it my home.” Narcissa laughed until she remembered they were going to a funeral and tried to compose herself. 

She had expected a grim welcome, given the circumstances, but Edmure wore a grin on his face when he saw his sister again for the first time in many years. To Narcissa’s surprise, Robb, on the other, reserved a cold greeting for his uncle and she made a mental note to ask him about it later. 

Given that Hoster Tully had already passed away a handful of days ago and that the day only offered them a couple more hours of daylight before the sun would set, everyone hurried to the river shore at once. Narcissa couldn’t help but observe with curiosity as the body lay on a funeral boat, surrounded with hay. Westerosi customs were weird but she kept herself from judging. 

She stood next to Robb as Edmure and Catelyn recited their eulogies. Narcissa didn’t know the man and yet, she felt tears prickle at her eyes as she thought about her own mother. Catelyn hadn’t been able to say goodbye either, but at least she was able to hold his hand one last time. Narcissa wasn’t given the same chance. She wondered if Valentino had said a few words at her funeral, he was always her favorite. 

Robb seemed to feel her change in mood for he pulled her against him, under his cloak and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His armor was cold and hard against her body but she fell into place next to him just like two assembled puzzle pieces. She had him now. 

By the time Edmure failed his second attempt at setting the funeral boat on fire with his arrow, Robb and Narcissa were both struggling to remain serious and keep themselves from laughing, knowing that Catelyn and pretty much everyone in attendance but for the Blackfish, would disapprove of it. 

“I hope bows and arrows are not his weapon of choice,” Robb whispered into her ear but not quietly enough it seemed because the glare Catelyn addressed them spoke volumes. “His aim is worse than yours when you try to kick me in the dark for supposedly snoring.” And then, just to prove his point, he managed to easily dodge Narcissa’s playful slap.

Discretely, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, making him lean forward so she could speak into his ear. “A night will come when you think you are safe and happy, snoring loudly and contently in your sleep, and suddenly you’ll feel my foot kicking your leg, and you’ll know it’s payback for laughing at my expense.” Narcissa joked playfully. 

The ceremony soon came to an end and Robb left her to go shout at Edmure for not following his orders. She asked him if he wanted her there, but he refused, saying that she deserved to take a nap in that featherbed she craved so much. Suddenly realizing how close she was to her heart’s desires, she placed a quick kiss on Robb’s cheek before following a handmaiden to their assigned chambers. 

-/-/-/-

“Wow,” Robb breathed out as he stepped inside their bedroom, barely registering the lavish furniture and decoration. Narcissa stood in front of the mirror, applying a rosé color to her lips. She was clad in a magnificent silver dress whose neckline left her shoulders bare and Robb couldn’t take his eyes off her. How Walder Frey had managed to have a granddaughter like this, he didn’t know but he felt very grateful all the same. “You look ethereal, Narcissa.”

She caught herself blushing as she saw him approach her from behind through the reflection on the mirror. “You don’t scrub up so bad yourself,” she teased as he came to hug her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She wasn’t lying – Robb had also found the time to take a proper bath and change into dressier, fancier clothes. He looked slimmer like this without the leather, the armor and the furs, like a lord. 

“I saw the Maester today,” Narcissa informed, staring at him through the reflection and noticing how Robb prompted her to continue. “He said that everything looks good and that the baby appears strong.”

Robb chuckled against her neck, his beard softly scratching her skin as his hands slid down over to her now slightly protruding stomach. “Of course, he does. He’s going to be strong like his father,” he murmured, flattering himself before looking into the mirror and was almost guilt-ridden then. His father and grandfather were dead, his brothers were missing, most likely dead, his sisters were still miles away from safety, and yet he couldn’t deny the joy that overtook him in this moment. 

“It could very well be a girl,” she pointed, throwing her head back just a little and exposing more of her neck in the process. Robb couldn’t resist the temptation, his lips immediately at her soft skin.

“For generations, the oldest Stark child has been a boy. I won’t allow you to come around and mess with tradition,” he joked softly but Narcissa stomped on his foot all the same as a response. If anyone was capable of changing the way of the world, then he was sure that it was her but he was still convinced it would be a boy. “And if it’s a girl, I hope she won’t be as mean as her mother.” Robb teased. 

Narcissa had intended to swat his head away but before she could, Robb was nibbling on her earlobe, his hands slowly pulling up her skirts. She let herself melt into his touch, purring softly as he almost imperceptibly started leading her to the comfortable bed and she remembered the reason they were staying in Riverrun in the first place. “We need to stop or we’ll be late to the feast,” she protested faintly, weakly pulling him away from her. 

“No one will even notice our absence,” Robb groaned, pulling her flush against him so she could feel his arousal pressed against her lower back. She almost gave in then, conceding that the others might excuse some tardiness until he started pulling on the laces of her dress and she remembered how tedious and time-consuming it had been to tie it up in the first place. 

“You’re the King, everyone will notice your absence,” she pointed out with a smirk, detaching herself from his hold so she could turn around and kiss him chastely. “We need to go downstairs and honor your grandfather.” Narcissa said firmly, leaving a panting Robb on the bed as she walked back to the mirror to make sure her hair was still in place. 

“We could simply honor him by naming our second son after him,” Robb sighed, running his hands through his hair, clearly disappointed at his wife’s willpower. 

“No son of mine will be named Hoster!” Narcissa objected. “I might be mean, but not cruel enough to do that to a poor child,” she said before walking up to him again and offering him her hand so they could head to the great hall together. 

Robb was about to accept her hand when he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” he said as his hand disappeared inside his pocket before emerging again with a necklace. Narcissa immediately noticed the metallic medallion in which the Stark sigil was carved. Silently, she offered him her neck so he could put it on. “I had this made for you. You’ve always had a wolf’s temper, but I felt like everyone should know that you are a Stark, and most of all, mine.” He murmured as the wolf medallion settled down just where her breasts began.

“Thank you,” she whispered, twirling it between her fingers. “It’s beautiful.” 

They made their way to the great hall together and Narcissa quickly noticed that the meal held after a funeral was much more joyous when the person of honor had died peacefully of old age. Of course, many eyes were still shining with unshed tears, Catelyn’s most of all, but everyone told stories of how he had lived, not how he had died. The laughter was louder than the whimper, and Narcissa decided that this was how she wanted it to be when she died. No need of spoiling the living because of the dead. 

Robb spent the evening as a quiet listener rather than as an active partaker in the conversations. He had only seen his grandfather once and that had been ages ago, when even Sansa was still too young to travel with them. He didn’t remember much of Hoster, only that he spoke loudly and tousled his hair whenever Robb had been unlucky enough to stand too close. 

By the time everyone had finished eating, Narcissa had fallen asleep against his chest after only two small cups of wine. She had promised she would only rest her eyes her eyes, but he had felt her go limp within the embrace of his arms almost an hour ago. They had ridden for days, stopping only a few short hours each night, it was no wonder she was exhausted. He too was feeling his eyelids grow heavy and promptly excused themselves. Catelyn looked up from her deep conversation with the Blackfish to address him a smile and Robb knew it was her way of thanking him for letting her attend the funeral. 

He carried Narcissa in his arms back to their bedroom. She was sound asleep and even though he had entertained other ideas for their first night back in a proper bed, he wouldn’t wake her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so cheesy I cringed through almost the entire chapter haha. Fluff is definitely something I’m not used to writing! This chapter was also partly a filler, but I needed them to reach Riverrun at some point.   
> I skipped over the part where Robb is scolding Edmure because Narcissa wasn’t present and she’s my pov of choice. Besides, we all know that Robb was furious at Edmure for having botched his strategy only to get back some mill.   
> Also, you might have noticed that the theme of death was quite present in the chapter. Gee, I wonder what it’s foreshadowing haha (But don’t worry, unlike George RR Martin, I am in love with Robb).   
> PS: Do not drink if you’re pregnant. This is GoT, they knew about health about as much as I know about nuclear physics – nothing more than the basics.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but the real culprit here is whoever made my exam schedule haha   
> I hope you still remember what has happened so far!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!  
> PS: I proofread this twice, I swear, but it seems my braincells aren’t cooperating tonight.

“Where have you been?” Robb inquired as soon as she entered their bedroom, lifting his gaze from the pile of papers spread out on the desk. He had woken up quite early, and yet she had already been gone. 

Then, he noticed the large pile of books she was carrying, trying to balance them between her hands and her chin. In a trice, he was standing in front of her, grabbing the books from her arms. Robb had told her numerous times she shouldn’t exert herself but Narcissa never seemed to listen. 

“First, I met with seamstress to order a few new dresses,” she said, or rather almost sang as happy as she was, before skipping to the largest window and opening it wide. Riverrun was beautiful, it almost reminded her of Florence. “Then, I went to the kitchens to get some berries before getting lost around the keep trying to find the library.” Narcissa explained before throwing herself on the chaise longue with a smile on her face. 

Robb couldn’t help chuckling at seeing her happy like this. He wondered if the glow was due to the pregnancy or to her being in a castle, or maybe even both, but in any case, she was shining bright. “For someone who didn’t grow up in a castle, you got used to the castle-life rather quickly,” he teased, setting the books down by her side of the bed before joining her on the chaise longue. 

“The only reason my house wasn’t called a castle is because my father is not a lord,” she replied lightheartedly. “The villa looks very austere from the outside, but on the inside, it’s the most beautiful home. There is a garden within the walls, in the center and I always went there to read.” 

“You do read quite a lot,” he commented, lazily resting his head on her chest as his hand caressed her stomach. “But I don’t know how you’ll manage to go through all those books while we’re here,” Robb said, gesturing at the pile of books he had just set down. 

He had perceived it as soon as they arrived at Riverrun. The way she had changed into her finer dresses before happily strolling through the large corridors, admiring the scenery through the windows or the few paintings that decorated the walls. She even took her time to help Edmure with some bookkeeping he was getting behind on since Hoster’s death. 

Here, she was in her element, not in a war camp surrounded by mud and blood. These thoughts had crossed his mind often since their arrival only three days ago. Maybe she should stay in Riverrun when he went back to war. It would be safer for her and the baby, with a Maester present, and in any case, Narcissa looked happy inside these walls. 

“Don’t worry,” she sighed contentedly, absentmindedly brushing his curls with her fingers. “I read faster than anyone I know.” 

“Can I ask you something?” Robb murmured after a while, slowly becoming sleepy under her caresses and Narcissa hummed as a reply, not bothering to open her eyes. “Are you going to make me freeze to death until the baby is born?” He asked somewhat seriously. 

“What?” 

“Each time I close the windows, you reopen them again.” Robb explained, as Narcissa chuckled against him. 

“It’s not my fault you always insist on lighting a fire,” she teased. For someone from Winterfell, he was really used to warm chambers. Perhaps it was due to the hot springs Catelyn had told her about. 

Robb heard her yawn contently before she adjusted herself to find a better position, ready to sleep some more. He realized that she hadn’t lied to him all those months ago when he had asked her what she liked doing for fun and she had replied napping and drinking. In the end, they dozed off like that after Robb covered themselves with a blanket. 

“Your Grace!” A man shouted, barging inside the chambers without a warning. Both Narcissa and Robb woke with a start, feeling slightly disoriented. 

“What is it?” He groaned with annoyance, getting back up on his feet to go talk with his soldier. Maybe she would be able to go back to sleep if they kept their voices down. 

“Willem and Martyn Lannister were killed, your Grace,” the soldier informed, speaking quietly but Narcissa heard him all the same, standing up at once, startled by the news. 

“How?!” Robb growled so loud, she was certain the walls had shook. 

Within minutes, Catelyn, Brynden and Edmure had joined them in their chambers, just as the corpses were brought in. Narcissa stared at the dead Lannisters with horror when she noticed they were just boys. She hadn’t even been aware Robb kept prisoners this young. 

“Bring them in,” her husband ordered the Blackfish. 

Brynden opened the doors and Karstark was dragged inside in chains by soldiers, as well as four other of Kartsark’s men. Narcissa immediately fell relief washing over her when she saw neither Clive, nor Travis. 

“Is that all of them?” Robb asked, but was only answered with silence. “It took five of you to murder two unharmed squires!” 

“Not murder, your Grace. Vengeance!” Lord Karstark spat defiantly, not even bothering to look at the boys he had killed. Each time she had been with him, Narcissa had thought Rickard looked rather kind, with his long beard and white hair, but now she could see no kindness in his face. 

“Vengeance? Those boys didn’t murder your sons. I saw Harrion die on the battlefield, and Torrhen…”

“Was strangled by the Kingslayer!” Rickard Karstark shouted, glaring at Catelyn next to Narcissa. “They were his kin.”

“They were boys! Look at them.” Robb shouted and she saw his whole frame shake with anger. Without a thought, she made her way over to him, hoping that her presence would help him remain calm. 

“Tell your mother to look at them. She killed them as much as I.”

“My mother had nothing to do with this. This was your treason.”

“It’s treason to free your enemies. In war, you kill your enemies. Did your father not teach you that, boy!” Karstark yelled before being kicked to his knees. 

“Leave him.” Robb ordered without needing to raise his voice. 

“Aye, leave me to the king. He wants to give me a scold before he sets me free.” Lord Karstark said tauntingly, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he rose to his feet again. “That’s how he deals with treason, our King in the North or should I call him the King who lost the North.”

“Escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon. Hang the rest of them.” Robb instructed his men with a curt nod. 

“Mercy, sire! I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.” One of the Karstark soldiers begged as he was being dragged out of the room. 

“This one was only the watcher. Hang him last so he can watch the others die.” Her husband said with a bitter smirk before taking his seat at the head of the table. Under different circumstances, she would have been proud her attitude was rubbing off on him and would have congratulated him for the punchline. 

“Word of this can’t leave Riverrun.” Edmure said as soon as the men had left. “They were Tywin Lannister’s nephews . The Lannisters pay their debts. They never stop talking about that.”

Robb retorted coldly that he refused to be a liar as well as a murderer. Narcissa wasn’t surprised by this, she knew how much he hated lies. 

“I’m not fighting for justice, if I don’t serve justice to murderers in my ranks, no matter how high born. He has to die.” He said, his words surprising Narcissa. Karstark needed to be punished, no doubt about that, but executing him? 

“The Karstaks are Northmen they won’t forgive the killing of their Lord.” Catelyn objected softly and Narcissa wholeheartedly agreed. 

“Your mother is right.” She said, speaking for the first since she had seen the Lannister corpses. “If you do this, the Karstarks will abandon you.” 

Robb turned to look at her with attention but everyone started speaking at the same time before he could say anything. Catelyn was pleading for Karstark to be kept as a hostage, the Blackfish was going on about the Wall and she couldn’t even make out what nonsense Edmure was saying. 

“You are all excused.” Narcissa announcedly calmly yet loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony as the Tullys finally shut their mouths, but none of them made their way to the exit. “I said, you are all excused,” Narcissa repeated through gritted teeth. 

She stood still, listening as their footsteps became fainter until she couldn’t hear them no more and the door was closed behind her. 

“You cannot execute Lord Karstark,” Narcissa breathed out before sitting down at the opposite end of the table. She dared a look at her husband and noticed without surprise that he looked beyond furious. 

“If I don’t do it, if I don’t punish him, what’s stopping other men from crossing me as well,” Robb snarled, focusing his gaze on the table. One of his bannermen had gone behind his back and killed two of his prisoners, children no less. What would be next if he did nothing?

“Respect,” Narcissa said calmly, leaning back on her chair. “Respect for you, for their king is what keeps them loyal. You kill Karstark, you’ll lose his men’s respect and loyalty.”

“Respect?” Robb blurted out as he stood up abruptly, making the table tremble and some wooden figurines fall over. “Karstark disrespected me the moment he killed those boys. Fear is what keeps them in line!” He shouted, making Narcissa flinch at his tone even though she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. In reality, he was starting to sound too much like a Lannister for her taste. 

“Your mother disrespected you the moment she set the Kingslayer free.” Narcissa stated flatly, observing him as he paced in front of her with his right hand on the hilt of his sword. “Last time I saw her, her head was still attached to her shoulders.” She pointed out in a sharp tone, making Robb turn to look at her with disbelief in his cold blue eyes. 

“She is my mother!” He hollered. 

“And a traitor all the same.” She added more quietly, fearing that the situation might escalate but into what she did not know. 

“If I don’t execute him, they’ll think me weak.” He sighed, feeling guilty after having noticed her change in tone and realizing that he had been yelling at his wife. 

“And if you do, they’ll think you an hypocrite.” The truth was, there was no right answer. Whatever he decided to do now would set a precedent and no option was perfect. “Keep him as a prisoner, allow him to take the Black or give him a trial, Robb, your choice. I know you can’t appear weak, but you don’t need to be ruthless either.” 

“Lord Karstark showed no mercy when he killed the boys, why should I?” He asked almost rhetorically, leaning forward over the table and casting a large shadow over it. “I’ll sentence him to die and carry it out myself.” He decided then, his tone final before heading to the double doors.

“Robb!” Narcissa protested, feeling somewhat scared as she scrambled to her feet to join him and hope to calm him down, make him change his mind. 

“Are you going to cross me as well, Narcissa?” Robb said, looking at her intensely, his voice somewhere between mockery and provocation as he stared into his wife’s large brown eyes. 

“You are my husband and my king, Robb. I would never openly challenge your decision, but…” She said, intending to finish her sentence with ‘but I disapprove of this’ when he interrupted her. 

“Good.” Robb barked before storming out of the room. 

-/-/-/-

Rain was falling down heavily as they stood gathered in the courtyard to witness Lord Rickard Karstark’s execution. Narcissa stood under the canopy next to Robb as they watched the man be dragged in front of them by two soldiers. She wanted to grab his hand and hold him back but she knew it was his decision to make and he had made it. 

Narcissa didn’t take her eyes off Robb as he marched over to Lord Karstark in the rain. Even from where she stood, all she could hear were the raindrops hit the steel of his armor and it was deafening. Robb’s strides were confident, and even as he spoke to the Northern Lord, his voice was cold and clear, with no hint of hesitation or remorse. And then Karstark fell to his knees next to Robb, his head on the executioner’s block. 

“Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold, here in sight of Gods and men, I sentence you to die,” Robb stated solemnly with his sword held tightly between his hands. “Would you speak a last word?”

“Kill me and be cursed! You are no king of mine,” Karstark bemoaned loudly, looking at him defiantly. 

And then, without warning, Robb’s blade cut clean through the man’s neck. Instinctively, Narcissa closed her eyes as the lifeless head fell to the ground. The sound of it made her stomach turn. The only time she had watched a man die before was when she had tried to escape and the Lannister spy was shot down by an arrow. And maybe it was the adrenaline she had felt then, but this was different. 

Perhaps she had been sheltered, even after all this time in war, but she had never seen Robb kill a man before. She knew he had, everyone praised his exploits in battle but she had never seen him do it. Especially, like this, in cold blood. When she heard about his killings in battle, it sounded like something far away, almost like it was someone else. And now, she had watched him kill someone without hesitation right in front of her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off her husband as he threw his bloodied sword and marched off, only pausing to toss his gloves in the fire. Slowly, everyone deserted the courtyard and Karstark’s corpse was removed, and yet, Narcissa stood there watching the blood stained grass that even the rain couldn’t wash off. Watching where Robb had just stood with a bloodied sword. Staring at the spot where the traitor’s head had rolled off. 

Ned Stark had been executed in the same fashion, but she hadn’t been there to witness it, to hear the noise and see the blood. It made her feel dizzy for some reason and she held herself upright to a metal pole supporting the canopy, trying to erase what she had just witnessed from her memory and failing at every attempt. And then, suddenly, a servant girl appeared in front of her, holding an open umbrella. 

Her steps were too loud as she walked out on the cold stone back to her chambers. She cringed every time her heels hit the floor, biting her tongue to keep herself from screaming until she tasted blood in her mouth. A head had rolled off in front of her and yet no one else had even blinked.

Narcissa threw open the double doors to her room only to spot Robb with a cup in his hand, staring out of the windows to the grounds where he had just killed someone. “I sent her l to bring you back,” he said and his voice sounded raspy. “I hope you are alright.”

She remained frozen for a second, before slowly exhaling and stepping inside. “Thank you,” she whispered, avoiding walking to close to him as she made her way to the screen in order to change into some fresh, dry clothes, somehow feeling dirty by what she had just seen. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the fastenings of her cloak, her fingers sliding over the metal clasps over and over again until she was finally able to remove the furs and throw them on the floor, as far away from her as she could. 

“Are you alright?” Robb asked, softly grabbing her arm to pull her up to him until he noticed her growing stiff under his touch. She didn’t pull away, and yet her reaction, was one of rejection all the same. “Are you afraid of me?” He inquired urgently, pulling her up by her shoulders until he was able to look at her face. He didn’t need her to reply, he could see the fear in her eyes. 

“Narcissa, I would never do anything to hurt you.” Robb promised, cradling her against his chest. Somehow, her fear hurt him more than any anger she could have expressed. “I’m sorry you were there to watch it, but it needed to be done.”

“Don’t call it ‘it’,” she blurted out weakly. “What you just did has a name. It’s murder.”

“Aye,” Robb nodded slowly, his grip instinctively tightening around her. “I murdered him and I would do it again. It is not pleasant, but it is what needs to be done and I’ll do whatever needs to be done to win this war and keep the North safe, keep my family safe.” He explained, hoping she wouldn’t look at him differently now, cursing himself for have allowed her to watch in the first place. Killing had almost become routine for him since he first left Winterfell, but he kept reminding himself whom he was doing it for. He had no desire to reign over the Seven Kingdoms and wear a heavy crown on his head, he wanted to go home with his family and feel safe. 

She desperately tried to hate him for what he had just done, and yet his words made sense. Her father always said the end justified all means. Granted, Cosimo had uttered those words in the context of blackmail and bribery, but Narcissa found them just as fitting. Was killing truly always wrong? Karstark killed two innocent boys and paid for his crimes with his life. Wasn’t that fair, rendering justice? Or did it make them just as bad as the Lannisters they were fighting?

“Say something, Narcissa,” Robb whispered, almost begging, his fingers still brushing through her brown hair. The longer she remained silent, the more he regretted her having witnessed the execution. Up to now, they might have talked about the war together but it was always in vague terms, keeping the gore outside their tent. Narcissa was strong, he would never dare doubt her strength but he should have preserved her innocence, the way he did when he led her back to her tent after a battle so she wouldn’t see the injured and the dead. 

“You are right,” Narcissa finally muttered against his chest, after an eternity had passed. “You did the right thing.”

Crossing a Stark had to come at a high price or else more traitors would arise, she reasoned. Florence had been at peace for ages and yet it had been built on the ashes of those who had fought for it. First, there had to be blood and war so that later there could be peace and prosperity – the end that justified all means. And if fear and blood was the way to reach that, then it was a price she was willing to pay. The Lannisters might have been bad, but they weren’t wrong.

-/-/-/-

Unsurprisingly, Karstark’s men deserted Robb’s army once they got told about their lord’s execution. Only a dozen of them remained, Clive included. Even Travis had deserted but Narcissa wasn’t taken aback by that. Ever since that night in her tent, they hadn’t really spoken to each other. At first she had sought him in order to talk things out, but she had given up eventually. 

However, with the Karstark men gone, Robb had lost almost half of his forces. Narcissa had seen it coming, but Robb had believed more would have stayed with him, understanding why he had done it. He was their king after all, but the soldiers had left all the same. Silently, she vowed she would someday make them pay for their treason.

Now largely outnumbered by their enemies, Robb grew restless. Some nights, Narcissa went to bed and woke up the following morning only to notice he had spent all night sat by a candle trying to figure out a plan, something, anything to get them out of this mess. But with a restless husband, soon came a restless wife. 

“Just come to bed, Robb,” she groaned late one night, drawing the covers over her face. How a single candle could produce so much light, she’d never understand but it did drive her mad. “If you haven’t found a miracle solution so far, you won’t find one in the dead of the night.” Maybe her words weren’t exactly the nicest, but she didn’t truly care. Sleep was sacred. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you up,” Robb murmured apologetically and Narcissa managed to open her enough to see that he was pouring himself some ale. He pushed his chair back as quietly as he could and stood up, stretching his body. His joints cracked, making him realize that he had been sitting in the same position for ages. Robb walked to the door, deciding to go brood in the library instead so she could sleep. Narcissa couldn’t help but rolling her eyes, this wasn’t what she had meant. “Have you received word from Oberyn Martell?” He asked, stopping in his tracks with his hand on the door handle. 

“I already told you,” Narcissa sighed, pulling back the covers on his side of the bed and tapping on the mattress so he’d get the message and get some sleep. He found himself smiling at her insistence, and perhaps having her next to him was what he truly needed. “He is still unsuccessfully trying to convince his brother to join the war but I’ve noticed a change in his writing, he seems more and more determined to avenge his sister.” 

“You think he could be planning a coup, seize the power from his brother?” Robb wondered, almost hopefully as he discarded his clothes and blew off the candle before joining his wife in bed. She was lying on her side, her head propelled on her arm to look at him and it was obvious she fighting to stay awake. 

“Even if he is, it would take too long and unlike Tywin, we do have the luxury of time,” she yawned before letting herself fall on her back. First, Oberyn would need to find internal allies, overthrow his brother and then secure his position before he could send an army. That would take months. “Take the mercenaries my father rented and send them here instead of Winterfell,” she suggested for the first time, almost embarrassed she hadn’t come up with it sooner. 

“Winterfell is Winterfell,” Robb objected at once, staring at the ceiling with one arm bent behind his head. “It’s our ancestral home. I need it to be under Stark administration, I cannot call myself a King if I don’t control my own home.” Narcissa shut her eyes tightly to keep herself from saying anything. Whenever Winterfell was involved, Robb became categorical. For all she knew, it could very well be a ruin in the middle of a frozen wasteland but she was smart enough not to voice that opinion in his presence. 

They lied in a silence for a few minutes and Narcissa decided it was no longer impolite to fall asleep until she felt his hands on her shoulders and opened her eyes only to find him hovering over her. “Casterly Rock is the Lannisters home,” he stated seriously, his blue eyes shining with determination. 

In her tired state, it took her a few seconds to get what he meant but as soon she did, Narcissa pushed him away from her and sat up straight with new energy. Maybe this could work, she realized. Robb was willing to go through some crazy lengths for Winterfell and Tywin would most likely do the same for Casterly Rock. He’d be forced to send his armies and Robb could face them in battle. “That would have been a brilliant idea if you still had the Karstarks,” she said with sadness but Robb’s smug smile didn’t falter. 

“I do not need the Karstarks if I have the Freys,” he pointed out and this time she couldn’t help but frown at his idea. She’d strangle her grandfather if ever laid eyes on him again, and she wasn’t sure the feeling wasn’t mutual. 

“Walder Frey only serves one person and that person is Walder Frey,” she said warily.

“His great-grandchild will be king after me,” Robb grinned as if he was suddenly reminded he would be a father soon. “I’m certain he’ll make an exception.”

Narcissa wasn’t entirely convinced that he would but conceded that it could be worth a try. What did they have to lose in trying? Robb sent a raven out to the Twins the very same night and Walder Frey agreed to send two of his sons to negotiate a deal. 

-/-/-/-

“Thank you for riding here so quickly. I know travel isn’t easy in these times.” Robb said to Lothar and Black Walder who were sitting opposite him, on the other side of the table. Narcissa was at his right, eating grapes and eyeing her uncles suspiciously. Walder had so many sons who all looked the same, she wasn’t even sure she had talked to either of these two during her short stay at the Twins. 

“When the King of the North summons us, we come.” Lothar said in a tone that didn’t convey much respect but she seemed to be the only one to notice that. 

“Our father instructed us to tell you that his alliance with the North can continue if his terms are met,” Black Walder said and Narcissa turned her head to look at Catelyn. 

They knew Walder would ask for something in return. They had talked about it the previous night. The brunette had bet he would want Harrenhal while the red-head expected he’d ask for some other marriage, most likely of Robb’s unborn child to some of his many grandchildren or great-grandchildren. Narcissa had almost pointed out that would border on incest, but was then reminded of the Targaryen dynasty. 

Robb would agree to give up Harrenhal if it meant they could get the entire Frey army and truly, a ruin in exchange for thousands of soldiers wasn’t a bad deal. But she was sure he’d never agree to an arranged marriage on their child’s behalf. Worst case scenario, she’d hit his head with a brick but she knew Robb well enough to be sure he would refuse to do that. 

“Lord Frey demands Harrenhal and all its attendant lands,” Lothar said and Narcissa couldn’t help but grinning at her mother-by-law. She owed her five Gold Dragons now. 

“It is his once the war is over and we have no further strategic need for it,” Robb agreed and gestured for one of the servants to bring some parchment and ink. It had gone much more smoothly than expected. 

“And there is something else,” Black Walder added out of the blue. Narcissa cocked her brow at her uncle as Robb grew stiff next to her. 

“What?” Robb inquired, patience slowly leaving his voice. 

“Not what, whom.” Black Walder said, pointing his head at Edmure who looked confused for a second until he realized what the man meant and immediately proceeded to loudly voice his refusal. 

“Our father requires Lord Edmure to wed one of his daughters, Roslin.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Narcissa blurted out, ready to jump at their throats but Robb stopped her in time, pushing her back into her chair with his arm even though he was just as angry as she was. 

“The original terms were that Lord Stark marry one of his daughters, which he did. This new demand is simply preposterous,” she argued with fury, barely noticing Edmure who was nodding at her words right next to her. Truth be told, she couldn’t care less whether Edmure wanted this marriage or not, but Walder deserved a finger, had been given a hand, and now expected the whole arm. She’d be damned if she allowed that to happen!

“Lord Walder Frey is of the belief that Narcissa has always been more of a Medici than a true Frey,” Black Walder replied calmly, looking at Robb and ignoring her completely. She could feel her blood boil inside her veins, but next to her, Robb seemed completely unfazed which in her eyes could only mean he had gone mad. 

“Please excuse us while we discuss his terms,” Robb commanded flatly. 

Narcissa’s stare bore into the Freys’ backs as they exited the room. If looks could kill, she’d need a new black gown for their funeral. 

“You see what they’re doing,” Narcissa hissed angrily into his ear as soon as the Freys were gone. “You did what he asked, you married me and now he’s asking for more.” She objected quietly so that no one else would hear. It was one thing when they did it in private, but she knew better than to openly question his authority in the presence of others, especially Edmure and the Blackfish. 

“Walder Frey didn’t ask me to marry you.” Robb whispered , grabbing her hand. “He asked me to marry one of his daughters, and when I chose you, he tried to convince me to pick Roslin or another one instead, but I insisted. He was never pleased with my choice.” Robb said and Narcissa then remembered how disgruntled Walder looked on her wedding day when he came to her chambers to bring her to the Godswood. 

“Lord Brynden,” she said out of the blue, standing up from her chair. “I see that neither you nor I are enjoying the Frey’s company, so would you accompany on a walk instead?” She asked, barely noticing the curious look Robb was addressing her.

The Blackfish seemed rather uncomfortable with the offer but extended her his arm nonetheless. “As you wish, your Grace,” he muttered halfheartedly before leading her out of the room, into the large corridors facing the Red Fork. Narcissa enjoyed the fresh wind, but that wasn’t the reason she had asked him on a walk. 

“I hear you are a shrewd man, Blackfish,” she said, finding amusement in his nickname. “So tell me, what do you think of my grandfather, Walder Frey?”

“He might be the least pleasant man I’ve ever met. I’ve seen wet shits I like better than Walder Frey.” The Blackfish spat with no regard for politeness or propriety, until he remembered whom he was talking to. “My apologies, your Grace, I shouldn’t-”

“I agree.” Narcissa replied with a chuckle, cutting him off. “That is why I wished to speak with you, Lord Brynden,” she confessed, leading the tall man into a dark corner where they could speak freely. 

Narcissa scanned their surroundings quickly, making sure they were alone. “Walder Frey requires Harrenhal and Edmure’s hand in marriage in exchange for his soldiers,” she whispered. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“Robb, I mean the King, has decided to agree to his terms.” Brynden replied carefully. “We need his men.”

“Indeed, we do,” Narcissa agreed. “But I’m willing to bet we could go to the Twins, agree to kiss wrinkled arse, and Walder Frey would still refuse us his men at the last moment.”

The Blackfish looked down at her with caution and curiosity. “You think your grandfather is making us lose time?” He inquired. 

“I can’t say, but I do know that he is unreliable and capricious, wouldn’t you agree?” Narcissa asked pointedly, cocking her eyebrow. “Now, Lord Brynden, would you do me a favor?” She asked, waiting for him to nod. “As we speak, the sellswords my father hired are marching to Winterfell. I want half of them to head to the Twins instead, just in case Walder Frey goes back on his word.”

“You should be discussing this with the King, with your husband,” the Blackfish argued, though his tone suggested that he did in fact agree with her. 

“Winterfell is the Starks ancestral home, Robb would never agree to what I’m suggesting which is why I am talking to you, Lord Brynden,” Narcissa stated quietly. She had tried talking to Robb and Catelyn about it, but neither of them seemed to listen to reason when Winterfell was involved. “Do you have a trustworthy man to carry the message?”

The Blackfish sighed, not entirely pleased to go behind his King’s back, but she had convinced him. He had met Walder Frey often enough to know he didn’t hold himself to high moral standards. Maybe if they got to the Twins with more men, Walder would feel pressured to obey in fear of being quashed. “I do. I’ll send him off today.” 

-/-/-/-

Black Walder and Lothar Frey had departed almost three days ago, and ever since then, Robb had been organizing their travel north. It didn’t please him to ride north only to come back to south again, but it needed to be done. 

Narcissa heard him enter their room just as she was buckling up her overflowing trunk with difficulty. “I’ve received the new gowns I ordered today,” she said without bothering to turn around. “I think the seamstress got the measurements wrong because I can’t imagine ever being large enough for them to fit me properly.” Narcissa laughed, though just a little horrified by the idea of it, before spinning on her feet. 

“Is something the matter?” She asked with concern, noticing his deep frown. Instinctively, she made her way over to him until she was close enough to pull him down for a kiss. “You know you can share your concerns with me, Robb,” Narcissa smiled timidly but he didn’t mimic the action.

Instead, he took her hand and led her to the table. “Come sit with me.” He said before pulling her into his lap. At once, his left hand went to rest on her belly, using his right one to pour them two cups of wine. Narcissa took only a small sip, having recently noticed that wine now made her grow tired and the night was still young. 

“We depart for the Twins tomorrow morning,” Robb informed, drowning his whole cup in one take, preparing himself for what was to come. 

“I know,” she nodded, popping a grape into her mouth. Gods, she would miss these luxuries while travelling. “I’m already fully packed and I’ve started packing your belongings.” If anyone had told her two years ago that one day she’d be packing her husband’s luggage, she would have laughed at their face. However, Robb was rather messy – that was putting it kindly – and Narcissa couldn’t help but cringe every time she looked into his trunk. 

The words felt heavy on his tongue, it’s not that he doubted his decision but he had to brace himself for the outburst of anger that would follow on her end. “You’re staying at Riverrun, Narcissa.”

Robb had expected her to start yelling or even to slap him, but she found herself laughing out loud instead, eating another grape. “The hell I am.” 

“I knew you would argue with me, but hear me out,” Robb pleaded before leaning forward to grab the bowl of grapes so she didn’t have lean over the table and pick them one by one. Ever since they had arrived at Riverrun, she was either eating grapes or berries all the time. 

“I’m not arguing with you, Robb,” Narcissa said calmly, taking a handful of red grapes from the bowl in his hands. “I am going to the Twins and that is final.” She had no patience to have this kind of conversation on their last evening at Riverrun, but it seemed Robb was intent on ruining the mood. 

“It’s not your decision to make, Narcissa,” he groaned softly, rubbing her stomach. The bump mas becoming more pronounced now and she couldn’t hide it any longer, especially not while sitting down. 

“Whose decision is it then? Yours?” She scoffed, moving her head to face him properly, a smirk on her lips. “Both you and I know very well that is not how our relationship works.” Narcissa teased before leaning down to place a quick kiss on his lips. 

Her confidence both unnerved and aroused him. She was right, that was not how things usually worked between them, but this was something different, something he couldn’t compromise on. “You said yourself that it’s beautiful here, that you like Riverrun,” Robb coaxed, knowing very well that he’d lose if he forced the decision on her instead of convincing her of it. 

“I also like grapes and you don’t see me wanting to stay in a vineyard,” she argued, cocking her eyebrow before turning her attention to bowl of fruit again. “Again, you and I both know how this discussion will end, so let’s drop it and enjoy our evening.” 

“Narcissa, listen,” Robb groaned, trying to grab her arm but she had already walked away, out of his reach. “You’re with child and there’s a Maester in Riverrun. You’ll be more comfortable here, safer here.” He explained as calmly as he possibly could at this point, eyeing her intensely as she stood in front of the window, observing the Red Fork. The truth was he had made a promise to keep her safe the day he put his cloak around her shoulders by the heart tree, and that one promise he couldn’t break. 

Narcissa felt her jaw clench so strongly at his words that she might have damaged her teeth then as her fingers dug into the stone window sill. She loved Robb but he became insufferable when he was being overly protective like this. “I won’t require a Maester for many moons still, Robb.” She groaned, “I am not an invalid.” 

“An invalid you are not,” he acknowledged readily, drinking more wine. Never had he expected that marriage meant so many arguments. Ned had always valued his mother’s insight and opinion, but Robb couldn’t remember a single instance where she had questioned his authority so fiercely. Hell, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in Westeros doing that. “But you are my wife and it’s my child you carry. The decision is mine.” He asserted, showing dominance. 

Robb expected her to shout but was rather pleasantly surprised when she didn’t until he noticed her uncharacteristic, almost eerie stillness. Had he gone too far, he wondered worriedly, immediately moving towards her until her voice stopped him in his tracks. 

“If you wish to ride out without me tomorrow morning, that’s your right and your decision,” Narcissa conceded calmly, staring at the river’s melodic flowing beneath even though she was aware of his presence right behind her. “But I can tell you now that I will leave Riverrun the very next day, and I am not sure whether I’ll follow you to the Twins or sail to Essos instead.” She warned, trying to suppress her guilt of having resolved to blackmail against him but she wouldn’t be locked in a gilded cage, not matter how beautiful. 

Most Westerosi men would strike their wives for less, but he wasn’t most Westerosi men and she wasn’t the archetypal wife. His first instinct was to call her bluff and ignore her warning, but this was Narcissa and empty threats weren’t her habit. “You are a guileful woman,” he spat, closing in on her in one quick stride. “Why have the Gods made me love a guileful woman?” Robb asked bitterly, forcefully fisting her hair to pull her to him and make her look at him. 

She didn’t look into his eyes with fear, there was only audacity in the way she cocked her head despite the pressure and stared at him with defiance. “Don’t fault the Gods for your own weakness, Robb.” Narcissa taunted, still sporting the same smug smile but all he could focus on was the provocative way in which she had uttered his name, popping her lips at the end. She might have won the argument but he’d make her pay for her manipulation. 

Her back was hustled against the cold stone wall under the violence of their kiss, but the harshness of it was satisfying. He ripped through the fabric of her skirts as if it were a mere obstacle to his goal. His lips grated on the skin of her neck firmly enough to leave a mark and yet she moaned, the raspy sound driving him wild. Why indeed had the Gods made him love her? Why did he have to enjoy the feel of her body beneath his hands so much that it nearly drove him mad when she squirmed against him? Why did her provocation and defiance thrill him to the point where he couldn’t help but look past her disobedient nature?

Maybe it was the way in she let her head fall back and collide against the wall, mouth half open when he locked her nipple between his teeth. Maybe it was the way her nails dug into his shoulders when he carried her to bed before covering her body with his. Maybe it were the heavy eyelids and the surprised gasp that escaped her lips when he entered her, joining their bodies as one. 

“You’re mine,” he panted next to her ear, bracing himself on the wooden headboard as he thrust inside her. After all this time still thrown of balance by the uncanny way their bodies fit together so perfectly. “Say it.” Robb ordered in a groan. 

“I am yours,” she heaved just as the fire burning low in her abdomen became too much to bear and the flames took over all her body by surprise when she reached her peak. “I am yours, just like you are mine.” Narcissa added in a shallow breath when she contracted around him without a warning, inducing his own release and a low grow deepl in his throat. 

Mindful not to crush her with his weight in her condition, Robb eventually rolled over to his back. Both were trying to catch their breaths as their skins glimmered with perspiration under the moon light shining through the open windows. “Why did you have to be guileful?” He groaned softly. 

“Would you have it any other way?” She asked rhetorically, still panting but already smiling. 

Tomorrow, they’d set out for the Twins together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys recognize the Cersei/Jamie parallel here? I like to think that Robb and Narcissa’s relationship is healthier than the one Cersei has with her brother, but I just loved that piece of dialogue at Joffrey’s funeral!
> 
> I have five more exams until April 29th so until May, updates will be sporadic. After that I’ll be on holidays and will have more time to write.
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think! It never fails to make me smile when you do :)


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter 14 of this rollercoaster. This is somewhat a plot-heavy chapter. Hope you’ll enjoy!

Robb had expected they’d be able to make it to the Twins in just over a week but the weather didn’t agree. It was already raining heavily when they arrived at Wendish Town but it only got worse from that point onwards, and the downpour turned into a thunderstorm that slowed them down before stopping them completely. Some routes became impassable and the horses were too scared to continue. 

Narcissa wondered if this was some subliminal message from the Gods, a warning or even simply a dissuasion. At some point, she even started wondering if they really should resume their travel when the thunderstorm ended before realizing how irrational she sounded. “I’ve been in Westeros for too long. I’ve started believing in their superstitions and Gods,” Narcissa scoffed, raindrops landing in her mouth as she did. She made her way around the men who were setting up the camp after giving Carmel some sugar cubes she had taken from Riverrun. 

“What are you doing?” Narcissa asked loudly, hoping to be heard over the storm. Robb’s men were setting up the tents in the center of a large meadow.

“Working on setting up your shelter as quickly as possible, your Grace,” the bald man said with difficulty through clenched teeth as he pulled on a cord to lift the canvas over the poles. 

Narcissa stared at him for a full minute, blinking with surprise until she realized he was serious. “I am not sleeping here,” she said curtly. “None of you should either. Look at the sky.” She ordered, pointing her finger upwards as a lightning bolt ran through the sky. 

The soldier fixed the rope on the peg before bothering to pay attention to what she had just told him. “My queen, I understand women might be afraid of thunderstorms but I assure you it’s completely safe. The only thing truly dangerous in storms is finding shelter beneath a tree.” He explained, a satisfied smile on his face as his tone bordered on complacency.

“Do you know why it’s dangerous to find shelter beneath a tree during a thunderstorm?” Narcissa snapped, equally offended by his tone and his lack of knowledge. “You don’t know, do you?” She taunted, bending down to untie the rope from the peg and undo all the work he had done. 

“Your Grace!” He blurted out, forcefully grabbing the rope from her and muttering something under his breath. Narcissa sighed at his reaction, dropping the rope on the ground. 

“It’s dangerous to find shelter beneath a tree because a tree is most likely the tallest thing in your surroundings. Thunder usually strikes the tallest point,” she explained as calmly as she could, though she knew that she sounded much like her preceptors. “Now look around you, soldier,” she commanded and surprisingly, the man actually obeyed even though he looked confused. “This is a meadow and these tents are the tallest things in the area!” Narcissa blurted out before feeling a cold hand on her waist. She turned around ready to throw fit until she noticed it was Robb. 

Begrudgingly, she let him pull her away from the man so they could talk somewhat more privately. “What are you doing, Narcissa?” Robb chuckled, fastening the cloak tighter around her shoulders. She was about as drenched as he was though he still had the steel armor to protect him. 

“I was telling that man that he was acting stupid but he refused to listen to me,” Narcissa complained, glaring at the bald soldier over Robb’s shoulder. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes when she noticed him fastening the bloody rope again. “We cannot set up camp here!” She yelled with exasperation. 

Instead of going to the man and telling him to follow her orders, Robb pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead with a grin. His mother had warned him pregnant women could become emotional and irrational without a warning, he had just never expected it would look this cute on Narcissa. “I see my baby is causing you temper tantrums already,” he smiled, his hand rubbing her stomach over the cloak but she pushed him away. 

“First, it’s our baby, not yours,” she retorted, digging her finger into his chest plate. “Second, I am not acting up, Robb,” Narcissa said, grabbing his arm to make him turn around until he was facing the encampment. “You once told me I was probably the most educated woman in Westeros. Now I tell you this – if we set up camp here, in this meadow, someone will be struck by lightning before the night is over.” 

Robb frowned, moving his head to look at her only to notice she was dead serious. Nodding to himself, he walked to the middle of the encampment and every man turned his attention to him. Perks of being a king instead of a queen, Narcissa thought with bitter amusement, eyeing him attentively. “Pack up everything!” He ordered loudly, louder even than the thunder. “We are moving camp to a slightly more wooded area,” he added, staring at her the entire time. As expected, the men didn’t look pleased but complied nonetheless. 

It ended up taking them more time but with the desire to get away from the rain, everyone worked faster and a little over one hour later, everyone had found safe shelter. Narcissa changed into some dry clothes as soon as she entered her tent and was already putting on different shoes when Robb finally joined her. If she had been drenched, she didn’t even know what he was at this point. Rain was rolling off his hair down to his face.

Silently, she made her way over to him and helped him take off the steel. “He should have followed your orders, you are his Queen,” Robb complained, shaking off his wet clothes. “If this happens again, you need to tell me.” He urged her when she brought him some fresh clothes. 

“And then you tell them off, and they’ll still be obeying your orders to listen to me and not obeying me directly,” she pointed out, almost getting lost in his naked sight until she remembered with a shiver that they were having a serious conversation. 

In Florence, the bank clerks obeyed her orders unquestioningly but that was because she had proven her skills and abilities to them. For all these soldiers knew, Narcissa could very well just be another dimwitted lady who was throwing a tantrum. “Respect and obedience is earned with time and actions, not titles. You have proven yourself to them, that’s why they follow you. I haven’t yet.” She said, trying to ignore the fact that although she was now a queen, she had wielded more power back in Essos. She had been second in command at the bank after all. 

Robb didn’t seem to agree with her but remained quiet when she approached him with a towel in her hands, gesturing for him to bend down so she could tumble dry his hair for she was too small to do it otherwise. “Why are you grinning?” She asked suspiciously, rubbing the towel over his curls when his hands found her waist and pulled her close enough for him to kiss her lips. A startled sound escaped her when she recognized the urgency in him as one hand slid lower to cup her butt. She couldn’t blame him though, they hadn’t been intimate since leaving Riverrun six days ago. “Now?” Narcissa simpered, when she felt herself being lead to the bed as Robb groaned in assertion against her mouth. 

“Are we interrupting something?” Catelyn asked carefully, stepping inside the largest tent with Edmure. 

Instantly, Narcissa pulled away from Robb as if she had been burnt. He, however, looked a lot more unfazed, keeping a hand on her waist which she failed to swat away. “Of course not!” She lied, inviting them in but it seemed both brother and sister knew what had been going on if the way they smiled was anything to go by. “Supper should arrive shortly.” 

Just as expected, the servants came by only a few minutes later with food. Narcissa barely ate a thing, skipping right to the berries which had been meant for dessert. Sugar was the only thing helping her keep poised while listening to Edmure complain about his impending nuptials. Asking her about Roslin every five minutes even though she had told him a thousand times she wasn’t sure she had even met the girl while at the Crossing. The longer she was in his presence, the gladder she was that she had been forced to marry Robb and not someone as dull and self-centered like Edmure. 

The Blackfish arrived just as they had finished eating and Narcissa was endlessly grateful for his appearance because it finally got the new Lord of Riverrun to shut up for a moment. “I see you are smarter than that commander who made camp in a large field during a storm in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and lost half his men to lightening,” he told Robb as a greeting before taking some bread from the table. 

Robb gave her a quick smile before turning to the Blackfish but Narcissa quickly stopped him before he could give her any recognition. “Brain and muscle,” she commented with a grin. “I really got lucky with him.” 

Narcissa managed to catch Brynden’s stare over the table and the subtle shake of his head was enough to let her know there were still no news. It was to be expected, the weather slowed down everyone equally. Catelyn kept on ranting about how Walder wouldn’t take the tardiness lightly but she was the only to think that way. While she didn’t know him too well, Narcissa knew her grandfather well enough to know he would always find some reason to be offended, lack of punctuality was as good as any.   
Everyone retired early that evening. If the sky cleared during the night, Robb wanted to start moving early. In the end, the storm only stopped around noon the following day which increased their delay even further. More days of riding ensued and Narcissa felt the air grow colder as the headed North. She didn’t think it was that cold the first time she had arrived at the Twins, but Winter was coming. 

She spent her time on horseback either trying to read one of books about the history of the Seven Kingdoms she had taken with her from Riverrun or when her head started to spin, chatting with Clive. That was the only condition Robb had imposed her if she wanted to come with him: Have a guard again. She hated the idea of being constantly watched, but with Clive it was different. They were friends and Robb trusted his loyalty enough to keep his wife safe when he couldn’t be around. Plus, the position of Queensguard did come with a considerable pay and she was happy enough if it went to Clive and his family. 

And then at last, they spotted the towers of the Crossing in the distance and it took them the rest of the afternoon to reach her mother’s first home. Narcissa and Clive were among the first to be led inside the walls. He was still talking next to her but Narcissa wasn’t paying attention anymore. Instead, her gaze was focused on a horse who was being brought to the barns by a stable-boy. It was a mare, entirely white except for a black spot on her right flank. “Are you still here, Lady Narcissa?” Clive asked next to her, his tone light-hearted despite a small hint of concern. 

“Yes,” Narcissa breathed out absentmindedly until she understood why she felt intrigued by the horse. “It’s just that,” she murmured before wetting her lips, “that’s Queen Bee over there.” She explained, tilting her chin at the animal so that Clive would follow her gaze. “We called her like that because of the shape of the black spot on her side. I just don’t know what she’s still doing here.” 

Piero, Gloria and Narcissa had travelled with six horses. Mainly in order not to tire them out, but also because they hadn’t packed lightly (that was mostly Narcissa’s fault). Why would Piero and Gloria have left Queen Bee behind, though? 

“All horses look the same,” Clive chuckled, jumping off his own stallion and waiting to help Narcissa off Carmel. Besides Robb, Clive was the only other person allowed to do it. 

As soon as she was back on her feet, she bolted in the direction of the stables before Clive could stop her. The barns, they never smelled pleasantly but she was too preoccupied to notice the stench. Walking on wet hay, Narcissa made her way inside until she found the mare in her box, being brushed by the stable-boy she had just seen outside. 

“What’s her name?” She asked the young man as she approached the horse to pet its muzzle. It didn’t pull back but that didn’t mean anything. Animals had always liked her. 

“She doesn’t have a name,” he replied as he continued grooming the horse, barely paying her any attention. 

“Then how long have you had her for?” Narcissa inquired with impatience. If Walder Frey had stolen her horse, he better have a damn good reason.

“I don’t know,” the young man replied curtly once again and Narcissa took notice of his accent for the first time. He didn’t have the usual Riverlands accent, more like a southern tilt. “I’ve only been working here for two days.”

She continued glaring at the brown-haired man but he didn’t say anything else and she wasn’t about to torture him in her grandfather’s home just to make sure he wasn’t lying. Seething, she turned around only to notice Clive had been standing behind her the entire time without her even sensing his presence. They walked out of the stables together and Narcissa spotted the Blackfish entering the keep. Without a thought, she pulled up her skirts and ran up to him. 

“Have you received any news?” Narcissa whispered, remaining purposefully vague knowing that castle walls very often had ears. 

“Not yet,” Brynden replied with a frown that matched hers. She had no idea of travel times but she was quite sure they should have had heard something by now. 

Narcissa grabbed his arm, pulling him down to her so she could ask for more details but he quickly shook his head, mouthing “not now” as they made their way inside the great hall. It was too crowded for Narcissa’s taste and she couldn’t see anything since everyone was taller than her. She could vaguely hear Walder Frey say something but she was still too far back to make out the words. 

Squeezing in between the people who hadn’t yet recognized her, a servant offered bread and salt which she hesitantly accepted. Salt tasted good, so did bread but the combination of it was peculiar. “Have you come here to bring her back?” Walder taunted in his crackly voice. “I do not take returns, I warned you she was a handful, your Grace.”

Finally, Narcissa saw Robb’s back and almost sighed with relief, the crowd already having made her anxious. She noticed as his fist tightened around the hilt of his sword until Catelyn slapped it away. “No, my lord. That’s not what I came here for.” He replied with his jaw clenched just as she finally appeared next to him. Immediately, he turned away from Walder to look at her with furrowed eyebrows, silently asking where she had been.

“Ah!” Walder Frey exclaimed with a scoff as he took a look at his granddaughter. “I see you handled her well enough to get her with child!” Her grandfather laughed, quickly followed by her uncles and Narcissa rolled her eyes so far back, she worried they’d get stuck. Robb brought his hand to her shoulder then, bringing her closer to him. Somehow, he was more offended by her grandfather’s words than she was, or maybe she was simply used to it. “I suppose congratulations are in order,” Walder continued still in that derisive tone of his, “the Young Wolf and his bitch are getting a pup!”

Narcissa blinked a couple of times at his words with disbelief as Robb’s grip tightened on her shoulder and he pulled her closer to him as she became almost entirely hidden in his cloak. She noticed her husband’s stance as he got ready to leap forward against Walder, but she held him back by his cloak. Narcissa knew her grandfather didn’t like her a lot, but to call her a bitch in front of an audience was an unexpected first. Still, Robb needed his men and she wouldn’t let anything jeopardize their alliance. In the end, Catelyn was the only one who managed to remain poised enough to say anything. “Thank you, my lord. We are looking forward to welcoming this new addition to our family.” She said but even her voice sounded strangled. 

“Well, I have enough room in the hall for you lot,” Walder announced, trying to get up from his chair without help from his wife who was barely of age. “We’ll set up tents outside with food and ale for the rest of your men.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Robb replied, his tone openly irreverential and his voice dripping with sarcasm. Narcissa was forced to look at her feet so that no one would notice her smirk. 

Finally, Walder managed to get up on his feet and clapped his hands once, dismissing everyone even though the King outranked him. Everyone started deserting the hall at once and a servant girl appeared out of nowhere to lead Narcissa and Robb to their chambers. The sun was already setting and the wedding would take place the next day. Unsurprisingly, they were assigned the same chambers as on their wedding night. 

“Did he always talk to you like that?” Robb asked with irritation, taking off his cloak as soon as the servant had kindled a fire and left them alone. 

“Walder?” She wondered and he nodded in response. “Only when I actually bothered listening to him which didn’t happen often, I’ll admit,” Narcissa chuckled, plopping down on a chair to take off her riding boots. Her belly was starting to get in her way, but for now, she was still able to do it on her own. 

“I shouldn’t have allowed him to talk to you like that.” Robb sighed, shaking his head before pouring them two cups of Walder’s cheap wine. Even the smell was unpleasant but she was thirsty enough to drink it anyways. 

“You need his help, for now,” Narcissa reminded him, stressing the last two words before helping him take off his armor. “But when we’re safely in Winterfell, I might inadvertently send someone to poison his drink.” She said with a wink, though she wasn’t quite she was joking. 

Robb looked down at her with a grin. Narcissa had a sharp tongue but he doubted she could kill someone and he wasn’t quite sure how that made him feel. He loved that innocence of hers, it made him forget all the horrors he had witnessed on the battlefield when he was with her. But if it ever came down do it, Gods forbid it did, but if her life was on the stake, he hoped she would be able to do it. And yet, the mere thought of it, of her being in danger, filled him with nausea. 

He couldn’t wait until the war and the danger were over, and he got to take her home and show her around the keep. He knew she would adapt to the cold weather quickly, he just hoped that the lack of sunlight wouldn’t bother her like it had to his mother. In the past weeks, he had thought about it more often than not and he could picture the two of them standing next to each other on the decks watching their son practice archery just like his parents had done in the past. Narcissa would most likely want to bet with him about their son’s aim, she was always one to gamble. But until that could happen, he first needed Walder’s men. 

“I’m going to meet with the council and Walder so we can start organizing the news recruits,” he said before kissing her forehead, feeling conflicted about leaving her alone (except for Clive) but he wanted to get it over quickly so they could leave again the day after the wedding. 

Narcissa nodded in response. “We will meet here later, then,” she stated, heading to the door as Robb gave her a confused look. “Your uncle invited me for a drink,” Narcissa added when he continued staring at her expectantly. 

“Why are you spending so much time with the Blackfish as of late?” Robb now asked accusatorily, reaching the door before she did and blocked her path. “I was told you were seen whispering with him when you should have been in the great hall with me.”

“I was talking to him because I enjoy his company.” She replied curtly, trying to grab the door handle but Robb didn’t budge which only aggravated her further. He still had that serious look on his face, his Tully blue eyes focused on her brown ones like he expected a real answer. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.” Narcissa concluded quickly, before removing his hand from the handle without a warning and exiting into the corridors where Clive was already waiting to take her to Brynden. 

“You’re absolutely sure it’s your horse, then?” Brynden Tully asked unconvinced, leaning against the thin wood wall of the stables which barely supported his weight. 

“Yes,” Narcissa sighed, caressing the mare’s muzzle. “She is the only horse I’ve met who refuses sugar cubes. And,” she added, spinning on her feet to look at Brynden and Clive, “I would recognize her black spot anywhere.” 

Clive still looked dubious that she’d able to recognize a horse she hadn’t seen in over a year but the Blackfish now seemed contemplative as he kept on staring at Narcissa and the white mare. “Would you recognize the other horses too?” Brynden asked with a frown. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.” Narcissa admitted, stepping out of the box to get a look at the horses. They all looked the same to her, especially in the dark, the only light coming from the torch Clive was holding. “Why? Should I?”

Brynden cleared his voice before speaking as if he was uncertain of what he was saying. “It’s one thing if Walder kept one of the horses. It’s an entirely different thing if he kept all of them.” Narcissa felt her brows furrow at his allusion, rapidly having caught up to the hidden meaning of his words. 

“What’s the difference?” Clive asked with confusion then as his eyes wandered from the Blackfish to Narcissa. Brynden groaned with frustration, clearly not patient enough to explicit his words. 

“If the other five horses are here too, it means Gloria and Piero never left.” Narcissa explained quickly and noticed the Blackfish nod at her words. She turned to look at Queen Bee again, hoping that by some miracle the animal would be able to talk to her. 

Walder promised her friends would be free to leave if she wed Robb Stark. She had talked to Piero at the wedding and met with Gloria the following day, but she never actually saw them ride off. “I need to get into his office.” Narcissa announced a little too loudly, startling both men who were deep in their own thoughts. Every lord kept a trace, a bill of sale, of the horses he acquired, she just needed to find it. “We need to go now while he’s still in council.”

The Blackfish seemed to agree with her for he immediately started heading for the door, quickly followed by Narcissa herself. Clive didn’t appear convinced by the idea but didn’t really have a choice. His King had made him promise to be the Queen’s shadow and though Robb was merciful, Clive wasn’t sure he wouldn’t react well if he lost her. 

The hallways were entirely empty now. It was rather late and Narcissa had remarked on her previous short stay at the Twins that the Frey’s weren’t night owls. Besides, everyone of importance would be in council in the library. 

“Clive, you will keep guard to make sure no one comes in,” Narcissa ordered in a whisper as they walked through a narrow corridor. “The Blackfish and I will look through his office and see if we can find anything compromising.”

Narcissa knew where Walder’s office was, that was where she had first talked to him. The only issue was that it was close to her grandfather’s private chambers and she didn’t know how much longer council would last. 

Unsurprisingly, the door was locked but it wasn’t truly a problem. She knew how to pick locks, it was how she had gotten into her father’s own office in the first place to steal the sword. Clive handed her a small dagger and within seconds, the door was open. 

It seemed like the room hadn’t properly been aired in weeks and there was a stench that didn’t quite agree with her full stomach, but she suppressed it as best as she could. Now wasn’t the best time to be hit with nausea. Brynden had lit a candle without her noticing and was already going to the drawers on the desk. 

Narcissa headed for a pile of parchment stacked on a small table and proceeded to skim through them. Most of them were bills for Roslin and Edmure’s wedding, many of them unpaid. There was food, wine, cake but what caught her attention the most was the ridiculous high price Walder was paying for the musicians. Cosimo was very well off, nothing comparable to Walder, and even he wouldn’t pay that much for music. No wonder the Crossing was almost in ruins, her grandfather had no idea how to run a household. 

“I have found something.” Brynden said out the blue, startling her in the process. He was holding up two pieces of parchment, letters without doubt. 

“Whom are they from?” Narcissa inquired, immediately discarding the bills to join the Blackfish by the desk. 

“They’re yours.” He replied seemingly confused as he handed her the letters. 

She immediately recognized her own handwriting. Both were addressed to her father. In one of them, she told Cosimo how disappointed she was with Walder. The second one was when Walder had arranged her marriage and she wrote to her father to let him know her trip would last a little longer than expected. She remembered how she had tried reassuring him without telling him what was going on. “These are old,” Narcissa sighed, falling back on a chair. It felt like an entirely different person had written these and so much had changed since then. “I wrote these before I even got married.” 

“Seems like Walder didn’t want your father to know of your whereabouts.” The Blackfish concluded gravely, ripping the parchment from her hand to get another look at the letters. “Are they in good terms? Your father and your grandfather, I mean.” He asked, and somehow Narcissa got the feeling Brynden always led on more than what he actually said in his few words. 

“Not really.” She replied, looking around the room without focusing on anything in particular. “Walder never forgave my father for having taken my mother with him because she was the most beautiful of his daughters and he had intended to marry her off to some lord in Westeros.” Narcissa replied absentmindedly and the Blackfish merely grunted in response. She had never paid that story much attention except from the swordfight part. When she had been told of it, she had never set a foot in Westeros and everything seemed so very foreign and far away to her like some tale her mother read to her before bed. And then, all of a sudden, it clicked. 

“Walder lost one of his daughters to Cosimo,” she whispered with a frown, suddenly gripping the armrests much tighter until her knuckles turned white. “And everyone knows Walder is a prickly man, ready to take offense.” 

“Your letters never left the Twins and if that mare of yours is still here, so are the other horses most likely,” Brynden drawled looking at Narcissa with a smirk even though he was implying something somber. If Walder wanted revenge, he couldn’t risk word getting out, that meant Piero and Gloria were without doubt still held up in the Twins. 

“A daughter for a daughter.” She concluded with a scoff, now with a matching smirk. Walder wanted vengeance all along: If he couldn’t get Amara back, then Cosimo wouldn’t get his daughter back either. “And when Robb chose me, Walder tried convincing him to pick someone else but Robb still married me, and Walder had no other choice but to let me go.” 

“And now, you’re back here for the wedding.” The Blackfish stated, standing up from his chair to go open the door and drag a startled Clive inside by his collar. “And he has until the morning after to kill you.” From her peripheric vision, she noticed Clive’s eyes open wide at the mention of the word ‘kill’, only this time the Blackfish bothered explaining what was going on in hushed voices to her guard. 

“We need to tell the King about this.” Clive blurted out loudly and Brynden smacked the back of his head before warning him to be more quiet. 

“No, we are not telling Robb.” Brynden objected firmly and Narcissa found herself nodding at him despite Clive’s protesting glare. 

“If we tell Robb, he’ll confront Walder and blow up this alliance. We need his men.” Narcissa sighed, eyeing the Blackfish who shook his head almost imperceptibly. Still no news from the mercenaries then. “Besides, even if we are right – something we aren’t sure of yet -”, she said calmly, giving both men a pointed stare, “Walder would never have me killed in front of a witness.” As long as she remained with either one of them, or with Robb, she was safe. 

“We need to go to the cells are see if your friends are still there to confirm it.” Clive finally spoke and both Narcissa and the Blackfish found themselves in agreement. There was no way she’d recognize the horses, so going to the dungeons unseen was the only way to prove their theory and free Gloria and Piero, if they were right. 

“We’ll go before the wedding tomorrow.” Narcissa decided before grabbing the armrests again to get up. “The council will be over soon and we need to get the hell out of here before it is.” 

Narcissa got to their chambers just minutes before Robb did. She heard him talk with Clive outside, before dismissing the soldier for the night.

Narcissa used those precious minutes to discard her gown and jump into bed with a book to make it look like she had been back ages ago. Robb appeared tired, she immediately noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes. Council meetings were never captivating, and with the Freys present, she was truly happy not to be in her husband's shoes.

"Roose Bolton arrived with his men a couple of hours ago." He informed her absentmindedly as she watched him add a few more logs to the fire.

It reminded her immensely of their wedding night and yet everything was so very different now. They had grown comfortable in each other's presence, more than many other married couples ever did for the war had obliged them to share their accommodation instead of sleeping in separate chambers like most noble couples did.

Robb always rekindled the fire before going to bed and it irked her beyond words. She usually woke up in the middle of the night at Riverrun to put down the flames and open the windows. Then she'd go back to bed only to wake up again a few hours later with Robb clinging to her for warmth.

"Why did Bolton bother coming here when we are riding back South again after the wedding?" She asked after a while when he lied down next to her.

"In his letter, he said something about marrying one of Walder's granddaughters," Robb groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes before stretching out his arm on the mattress as a silent invitation which Narcissa readily accepted.

Walder Frey certainly was on a lucky streak: A Stark, a Tully and a Bolton. Narcissa would have been impressed if she hadn't felt sorry for whichever girl was to marry Roose Bolton.

"But isn't it odd he brought his men?" Narcissa insisted, resting her head on his chest. It would never cease to amaze her how despite his muscular stature, he still made the best pillow.

"He didn't bring all of them, most remained at Harrenhal. But he couldn't risk travelling on his own."

His words did make sense to her but she couldn't help wondering how many men they were talking about. Ten or a thousand?

But those thoughts were quickly overcome by her biggest concern, namely her own grandfather. She had known all along he didn't hold her in his heart but she was still his kin. And yet there was no reasonable explanation why he would have kept her from communicating with her father. Brynden had immediately assumed that he wanted to kill her for revenge and though the idea had first appeared farfetched to her, she couldn't come up with a plausible alternative.

"Can I tell you something?" She whispered after a while, not sure if Robb was already asleep until he hummed in response. "I know I don't say it often, but I do love you quite a lot." It still felt weird to her to say it out loud but somehow, it felt like the right moment to repeat it.

A second later, her back was on the mattress again and Robb was sitting next to her, his hands on her belly. "Listen carefully son because your mother only utters those words on very rare occasions," he whispered at her belly with a devilish grin on his face as he teasingly gazed into Narcissa's eyes.

Without missing a beat, she playfully hit his shoulder with her right foot, trying not to laugh at his antics. Robb mocked being offended for a second before a smile took over his face again. "No need to pay attention to the foot kicks though, they happen often enough." He murmured as seriously as he could until laughter escaped Narcissa's lips and contaminated him.

"But for the record, I love you too, Cissa.”

-/-/-/-

Robb left her side early, needing to go check up on his men outside before the wedding. It made her wonder how much free time they’d have when the war was over, if they even made it out alive. It dawned on her that they had never known each other outside of the war. Were they both the same people when they weren’t living in muddy war encampments? Would they still get on with each other when they spent all their days in a castle? 

Her mind was a true whirlwind as she lowered herself into the warm water of the bath she had ordered. It was a sort of generalized anxiety that had her skin in goose bumps and a constricted feeling in her head. It went from concern about the food at the feast that evening, to the fear that she would indeed encounter Gloria and Piero in a cell only to worry that once back in his home in the North, Robb would forget all about her. 

Narcissa left the water in shivers despite the fire still burning big in the fireplace. She decided to pack her things then, they were leaving again the following morning and she would welcome any and every distraction. There was a knock on her and a servant came in with a tray of food. She noticed Clive’s stance change by the open door as the foreigner approached her to set up the table, and the soldier only relaxed again when the girl had scurried off the room. 

“Come eat with me,” Narcissa invited him in but it sounded more like an order for some reason. 

Clive immediately noticed her shaking hands as she tried to cut her food and did it for her. She felt like a small child as she put vegetable after vegetable in her mouth, until realizing that Walder might as well just poison her and be done with it though she doubted even he would be cowardly enough to kill her that way. Narcissa spit out the food, suddenly feeling unwell. It wasn’t the taste but the knot in her stomach.

“Are you alright, Lady Narcissa?” Clive inquired with worry in front of her, leaving his chair at once to fill her glass with water. 

“How would I be?” She blurted out then, swatting his hand away and accidentally making the glass fall off the table in the process. Shards went flying everywhere, one piece of it landing on her barefoot as a skinny red line appeared on her skin. Blood. Hadn’t she already seen enough blood for a lifetime? “Either my own grandfather wants me dead or I have become mad enough to suspect him of plotting my death. Frankly, I don’t know which one is worse.” Narcissa groaned, taking out of the glass piece with her bare hands as blood ran down her finger. There was nothing she had hated more than having blood on her hands, it was sticky and obscenely crimson. 

Next to her, Clive was already sweeping the floor. It made her feel guilty, having her friend on his knees, cleaning away the mess she had made. “I’m sorry, Clive. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” she murmured, eyeing the floor to make sure she could get up safely. “The mare is Queen Bee, and I’m Queen Bitch, huh?” Narcissa joked as she stepped foot on the cold ground again. 

She heard him chuckle at her words as she made her way over to her trunk. “I couldn’t imagine a better queen for the North than you.” He said quietly.

“Don’t flatter me or I’ll be tempted to keep you as my guard long after the war is over.” She scoffed, picking out a blue dress from her trunk. She had never liked blue a lot, but Robb seemed to like that color on her and she had started wearing it more often since finding out. 

“Wear this.” Clive spoke seriously as he threw a package on the bed. Narcissa eyed him with curiosity before making her way to the bed to open it. It was a chain mail. The rings were very small, woven tightly around each other. “I took it from the armory for you.”

Narcissa grabbed the mail and held it out in front of her. It was long, most certainly covering her upper tights. But most of all, it was heavy beyond words. “I’m not wearing this,” she decided, throwing it back on the bed. 

“Either you wear it or you’re not going to the dungerons.” He said authoritatively, his green eyes stoic. 

She wanted to protest but knew it was futile. If she did, Clive might decide to tell Robb and then it would all be out of her hands. Sighing, she threw the blue dress back into the trunk and picked a burgundy one instead. It was larger and the neckline more modest, high enough to hide the mail beneath it. In any case, she would change before going to the wedding. 

Silently, she hid behind the screen and got dressed just as Brynden entered the room without a warning. He looked furious, apparently he had found Edmure on horseback, trying to run away. Despite her anxiety, it was enough to make her laugh. 

The three of them made their way to the dungeons. She knew where they were, and anyway, castles always kept their dungeons in the same place. The only real issue was to go by unseen and she had the Blackfish to thank for that for he had a keener sense of hearing than she did. 

Narcissa was surprised at first not to find someone guarding the entrance to the dungeons, but that surprise quickly dissipated when she found the reason behind it. Each and every cell was empty. There was no one at all except for the three of them and she fell a wave of relief wash over her.

Brynden decided to step inside each cell to make sure as Clive stood next to her. After a few minutes, the Blackfish joined them again, shaking his head. “We were all just being paranoid,” Narcissa laughed. “The horse was just that then, a horse,” she concluded. 

“What about the letters?” Clive insisted and from his expression, Narcissa noticed Brynden was asking himself the same question. 

“Gloria must have forgotten to send them, she was a bit forgetful sometimes,” she said lightly, dismissing their worries. However horrible Walder was, she was glad to find that he had never intended to harm her. 

Narcissa was about to say that they should go back upstairs so that they could change when a single bell rang through the air. She looked up confused at the two men, until someone bothered explaining to her what was going. “The wedding ceremony is starting soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Please let me know!
> 
> As you can all imagine, the next chapter will focus on Edmure and Roslin’s wedding. I have already finished writing chapter 15 (just need to proofread it) but I’ve not yet decided when to post it because if I have exams next week and otherwise there might be over a week between chapter 15 and 16…  
> Would you guys prefer to have chapter 15 quickly, or wait so that there isn’t too much time between the posting of ch15 and ch16?


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Not only did I have tons of exams but I tore a muscle on my thigh and was in so much pain, I had to be brought to hospital and couldn’t even begin to think about writing.
> 
> Warnings: Most of you have an idea of what is coming but I still felt a warning was required.   
> This chapter contains blood, gore, massacre and death. Do not proceed if you cannot handle that. Though, if you survived through S3E09, you’ll survive through this, I promise. 
> 
> I’ll admit I feel a little self-conscious about this chapter because I’m not used to writing this kind of stuff and I’m not sure I was able to convey the correct atmosphere.

“Excuse me.” Narcissa repeated the words half a dozen times to get to the front of the Sept where Robb was already standing next to his mother. Edmure was at the very end of the aisle, restlessly waiting for his bride by the seven pointed star. 

“Where have you been?” Robb asked her as soon as she took her place next to him. It seemed that lately, that was all he ever asked her. She was wearing a burgundy dress and not the blue one he had expected her to wear. He was quite sure Narcissa would have looked beautiful even if clothed in a potato sack, but he would have liked to see her in the more tightfitting dress. Perhaps it was just as well, too many eyes were on her already as it was and Robb didn’t exactly enjoy the kind of attention she was getting from the male guests despite the baby bump. 

“Exploring,” she replied with a mischievous smile, taking his hand in hers. It wasn’t a lie, not really, and it was as much as she could reveal without him getting angry. 

Robb desperately wanted to be mad at her for her behavior but her good mood was contagious. She was without doubt in a much higher spirits than she had been at her own wedding, it was almost as she had been relieved of some burden. “Remind me to keep you on a tighter leash from now on,” he simply sighed, not sure if he was joking or not. 

Narcissa looked around Sept, noticing the many candles as they casted a solemn atmosphere to the room. Everyone seemed to have made an effort in terms of clothing except for her and the Blackfish. Even Bolton who stood right behind was wearing a more elegant black doublet though for some reason, it made him look more bulky. Who really caught her attention though, was her husband. 

Robb looked dashing in a cinder, fitted cotehardie which did little to hide his muscular torso. Even his cloak was lightweight albeit just as dark, held together by clasps in the shape of dire wolves’ heads. Yes, she would have married Robb a thousand times over before even considering Edmure or anyone else for that matter. 

“What?” He asked quietly when he noticed her staring at him without hiding it. 

“You are a very handsome man, Robb Stark,” Narcissa replied with pursed lips, not one inch embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Robb, however, felt blood rush to his cheeks and it didn’t go unnoticed by Narcissa who chuckled against the crook of his shoulder. 

The room went dead quiet before he could reply anything and everyone turned their heads to the aisle to catch a look at the bride and her father. Her head was entirely hidden beneath a veil and Narcissa turned to Edmure, enjoying the anxiety on his face until finally the veil was removed and he breathed out in relief when she wasn’t nearly as ugly as any of them had expected. She was beautiful even, Narcissa reckoned. 

The ceremony was a lengthy affair, it seemed that a wedding in the faith of the Seven entailed much more dialogue and formalities than hers had in the Godswood. Narcissa felt her legs grow tired under the weight of the chain mail as the ceremony dragged on but decided against leaning on Robb – it wasn’t worth explaining the chain mail. 

Finally the groom kissed his bride and the guests were allowed to exit the Sept and head to the great hall for the feast. Narcissa strayed a little behind, talking with Catelyn as they walked along the keep. Her mother-by-law was finally allowing herself to smile again, now that they had a better chance at winning this war. Narcissa agreed, she had an unexplainable sensation that they were slowly reaching the end of this bloodbath people called war, that soon it would be all over and that one day, it would be nothing more than a distant memory. 

Everyone took their assigned seats and Narcissa was glad to notice that a place had been reserved for Clive at her request. Walder felt the need to speak a few words before allowing the party to start eating. As was habit, Robb started piling up food on her plate. Since their wedding, he had learnt she was quite picky when it came to food and it was easier to remember was she did eat than what she did not. 

The mood was light and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, Edmure and Roslin especially. At their table, Brynden and Clive were getting along rather well, sharing jokes. Only Roose was brooding, but Narcissa hadn’t ever seen him any other way. Robb commented on his lack of drinking, teasing him about him being the pregnant woman at the table but Roose merely replied it dulled the senses. Wasn’t that the very point of it, Narcissa wondered. At least with one glass or two, she could ignore the presence of her grandfather not far away. 

“Alright, Blackfish, listen closely,” Clive ordered, looking only Brynden but the whole table was listening to their conversation at this point. “A blind man walks into a tavern,” he said before pausing dramatically. “And a table and a chair.” 

Narcissa laughed so loudly at the bad joke, the wine she was drinking came rushing out of her nostrils. This in turn brought everyone to laughter, even Robb as he cleaned her face with a napkin. Everyone made a point to share a joke of their own then, even Bolton though no one really laughed at his. 

“Your Grace.” Walder Frey announced loudly, clapping his hands once to get everyone to pay attention just after the Blackfish had left the room to ‘go find a tree to piss on’. “The Septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said and Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak but they are not yet man and wife.” Walder stopped to regain his breath as men were starting to clap and whistle around the room. “A sword needs a sheath,” Walder joked but their entire table remained silent. “And a wedding needs a bedding.” 

Narcissa watched with big eyes as the newlywed couple was dragged out of the hall as the bedding ceremony was called. She felt sorry for little Roslin as most of her wedding gown was ripped open before she was even out of sight.

“Thank you for calling off that horror when we got married,” Narcissa whispered into his ear, her hand on his shoulder to tilt him to her. It was one of the most degrading things she had ever witnessed and she was immensely grateful she didn’t have to go through the same thing. The bed sheets exhibition was awful, but nothing compared to this. 

“It’s tradition,” Robb chuckled, watching the bedding cortege before turning to her. “But I would never have imposed that on you.” He murmured before kissing the palm of her hand, his blue eyes boring into hers and Narcissa felt some giddiness at the touch, imagining his lips on other places of her body as blood rushed to her cheeks. 

“I’m happy I married you,” she admitted with a grin which Robb was quick to match before it turned into a smirk. 

“Oh, are you now?” He teased, now drawing abstract patterns on her palm with the tip of his fingers. “If I remember correctly, you were trying to escape our marriage not so long ago.” Robb leaned forward, whispering huskily into her ear, his beard rubbing on her neck as she smelled the alcohol on his breath. “So, tell me. What exactly made you change your mind, Cissa?” 

Narcissa recognized his voice, it was the tone he used when he had a very clear idea of how they should spend the night and for some reason, she always fell for it. His fingers started sliding up her arm, still featherlike, making her shiver and melt under his touch, until she remember the armor and halfheartedly pulled herself away with him. 

“It’s getting late and I’m tired.” Narcissa announced then, standing up from her chair. “I’m retiring for the night,” she murmured before kissing his cheek. 

“I’m coming with you.” Robb immediately offered, getting up as well but she pushed him back into his chair with a smirk. 

“You’re the guest of honor, you cannot leave early,” she teased, knowing that he hated his kingly status. Robb still looked like he wanted to protest but she shut him up with a peck to his lips. “Clive will stay with me until you get back and if I get some sleep now, you might get lucky later,” she purred with a failed wink, well aware she looked anything but seductive then and yet Robb was convinced of the very opposite as he longingly watched her walk away. 

“No longer sad you had to marry her?” Catelyn teased her son as she walked behind him to her seat. He always looked so happy whenever he was with his wife or even just thinking of her, and it warmed her heart to know her son hadn’t been dragged into a loveless marriage. 

Robb chuckled at his mother, taking another sip of wine. He had probably had more alcohol than he should, but wedding celebrations weren’t the same without too much to drink. “Quite the opposite actually, mother.” He replied. 

“Maybe to thank me for my matchmaking services, you could name one of your future daughters after me,” she suggested not too subtly and Robb scoffed at his mother’s suggestion. At this point, so many people wanted him to name his children after them, that Narcissa and he would have to be very busy to satisfy all their requests. 

On the other side of the room, Narcissa and Clive were heading out when two of her uncles suddenly closed the double doors just as the music changed into something less joyous and more elegant. She appreciated the more refined melody though it seemed a little grim for a wedding. 

Clive went to talk with one of the Freys to get them to reopen the doors and Narcissa stayed close behind him, wanting to leave the feast as quickly as possible so she could take off the chain mail in her chambers. “The Queen wishes to retire,” Clive told one of the men guarding the doors, his voice stern.

“Your Grace,” Walder said loudly and the music stopped at once. Narcissa turned around and saw Robb approaching her grandfather who was beckoning him over. “I feel the time has come for me to share a story with you.” Her grandfather announced, gesturing for two servants to walk away and Narcissa noticed with confusion that they were in fact approaching her. 

“A story, my lord?” Robb inquired with sarcasm and Narcissa didn’t need to see his face to know he was sporting that arrogant cock of his brow. 

“Yes, a story.” Walder nodded just as the two servants stopped only a few feet away from her, each holding a silver plate covered with a food dome. “Many, many years ago, a tall proud man came into my castle and insisted he marry my daughter. I never saw Amara again,” her grandfather went on as everybody remained silent and listened intensely. “Many, many years later his daughter came into my castle like nothing had happened, waltzing in like she owned the place.” The old man said, shaking his head for more theatricality. “Why should Cosimo get his daughter back when I never got mine?”

So there it was, Narcissa realized with misplaced amusement. The Blackfish was right in his suspicions. She looked around the room, trying to find him so she could admit defeat but he was nowhere to be seen. Then, the servants in front of her threw the food domes on the floor and Robb turned his head at the noise but Narcissa’s attention was focused on the plates. Or rather, on the heads which were served on the plates. 

She threw up a little in her mouth as she recognized Piero and Gloria’s heads even though their faces had started to rot, the skin grey and purple. Shock had her paralyzed as she kept on staring at the plates, feeling all color leave her face. 

Everything happened very quickly, concomitantly. She heard Catelyn scream her son’s name as she slapped Roose Bolton. Robb turned around to see what was going on, and immediately starting running towards her. Clive grabbed her arm and tried to force the doors to open to get her out of there but was stabbed on the back before he could succeed. Narcissa watched with horror as his lifeless body fell to the ground, barely noticing Black Walder approach by her right side, knife in hand until he was right in front of her. He tried piercing the blade through her chest but the knife got stuck between the metallic rings on the mail and it was only then that she went back to her senses. The blow had hurt even though it hadn’t gone past the armor and she found herself smirking at her uncle’s failure. 

Smirking until arrows starting raining from the skies without warning, and bodies fell to the floor by the dozen. Her eyes immediately diverted to center of the hall, feeling panicked as she tried finding Robb amid the chaos. Narcissa barely noticed as Black Walder grabbed another knife from a nearby table to stab her in the belly with it. He used all his strength to drive it into her stomach but just like his previous attempt, it didn’t pierce through the metal. Acting on autopilot, Narcissa forcefully pulled the knife away from her armor and stabbed her uncle in the eye with it, vaguely noticing him fall to the ground in agony as she was barely aware of having moved at all. 

She scanned the room for Robb, praying to the Gods that he had managed to find cover when she was struck by a sharp pain on the right side of her belly. The sting made her fall over and she barely made it beneath a table as the pain became stronger. She touched her belly looking for prove of an injury, but her hand came back dry. It was only then that she felt something run down the insides of her thighs. She pulled up her skirts and noticed the red liquid on her pale skin as it made its way down from her core to the floor. A wave of nausea hit her as she realized what was going on when her belly contracted again with pain. 

Tears welled up in her eyes but it wasn’t the physical pain. Her daughter was gone. Robb was convinced it was a boy, but in Narcissa’s mind it had always been a baby girl. Her baby girl. And now it was all gone, gone with the red sticky substance that was exuding from her. She tried finding Robb with her eyes, needing him by her side but she could barely think straight as she clenched her stomach between her arms. 

Narcissa starred at the massacre happening around her with a constricted heart, feeling her blood pressure drop as she felt she was about to faint. Maege Mormont was lying in a pool of her own blood just merely a few feet away from her, and more blood still kept seeping out of her wounds. Narcissa wanted to do something, help in some way, any way but she remained still even as she implored her body to move with all her strength. 

And then somehow, in the middle of the carnage, she managed to find him on the floor, surrounded by corpses. Arrows were sticking out of every part of his body but for his head and perhaps for the first time in her life, she started sobbing heavily like a child. Tears began running down her face, some of them finding their way into her mouth until she couldn’t taste anything but the bitterness of sorrow. 

He raised his head then and she saw his pain when she looked into his eyes. His face was twisted with anguish and that hurt her more than any physical pain ever could. Narcissa opened her mouth, desperate to tell him to hide beneath a table but the words died on her lips, only a strangled sound escaped her throat as he kept staring at her, his eyes almost glazed over now. Without any rationality left, she started crawling to him, never abandoning the shelter of the tables as she left a trail of blood behind her. 

Robb felt all his breath leave his body as another arrow hit his back but he barely acknowledged the pain. Narcissa was here, in the middle of all this, bleeding and crying and it was all his fault. He should have left her back at Riverrun. Instead, Robb noticed with horror the blood dripping down her ankles as she started crawling up to him rather than trying to reach an exit. What was she doing?!

With all the strength he had left, Robb tried standing up on his feet again, his hand holding the floor for support as everything seemed to be spinning around him, making him dizzy. He was going to carry her out of there if it was the last thing he did. He just hoped he was still strong enough to bring her to safety before dying. Maybe one day she’d forgive him.  
But he couldn’t see her anymore. A puddle of blood now lay in her stead and Robb looked around the room with frantic worry, almost collapsing again due to his injuries if someone hadn’t grabbed him by the back of his cloak. 

A panting Narcissa finally managed to reach the table closest to Robb, ready to pull him down to her when she saw Roose Bolton walk up to him from behind before spinning him around easily. It was only then that she noticed how his grey clothes had now entirely turned burgundy and she felt a part of soul break at the sight. 

She was almost paralyzed with agony when her eye caught something shiny in Bolton’s hand. “The Lannisters send their regards.” Roose stated flatly and it all clicked in her mind. Narcissa was barely conscious of having moved at all, when she leapt forward without a warning and grabbed Bolton’s foot, pulling him down with her. The traitor fell to the floor face-first and Narcissa now noticed with fright the blood on his dagger as she straddled his back. 

Everything seemed to slow down around her as her hands grabbed the back of Roose’s skull before smashing his head on the stone floor. Once. Twice. Thrice. Until it barely looked like a head at all. Narcissa found herself grinning then, from ear to ear, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the traitor’s corpse. A once proud man now lay beneath her, disfigured and dead. 

It was only Robb’s voice who pulled her back from that dark place in her mind. It was a whisper, her name, as he collapsed on the ground right in front of her, his blue eyes closing as she looked at him. 

And just as suddenly as everything had slowed down, it all started moving again. She tried pulling him up so the arrows on his back wouldn’t dig in deeper but her hands kept slipping on his wet clothes. There was blood everywhere she looked. The walls, the floor, the tables and him. Blood was flowing out of his stabbing wound. Roose might have missed his heart because of her but the wound as just a fatal.

Resting his head on her lap, she brought both her hands to the gaping wound and started applying pressure but blood kept seeping through the thin spaces between her fingers, warm, and thick, and crimson and her vision blurred over. “No, no, no, no,” she muttered again and again, bringing one hand to his face, shaking it in hopes of waking him up but the only thing she managed to do was covering his face in even more blood. She tried feeling his heart beat beneath her hands but she was shaking too much. 

Narcissa barely noticed Catelyn’s agonizing scream of a mother losing her child as she slit open the girl’s throat. The scream only stopped when Lothar slit her own throat from behind, putting her out of misery as her lifeless body collapsed to the ground. 

Narcissa wanted to scream as well but only cries escaped her lips. The blood flow from the stabbing wound had slowed down but somehow she knew that wasn’t a good sign. Just as he lay dying in front of her, lethargic and covered in his own blood, a piece of her died as well. Her innocence was gone forever. The tears pooling at her eyes drove her blind as she cradled him to her, praying to whichever Gods were listened to trade her life for his. “You cannot die like this, Robb,” she sobbed, his hair now wet with her tears. “This is not how you’re meant to go.” 

A loud noise coming from the other side of the room instinctively made her turn her head at the sound. The double doors flew open as soldiers poured inside. Narcissa stared at them with confusion until she found her armor-clad brother among them, sword in hand. Finally.

“Kill them all!” She yelled as loudly as she could, still cradling Robb against her. “Kill them all but spare me Walder Frey!” She ordered. 

Muffled screams filled her ears as if happening far away. And then two pairs of boots appeared in front of her. She tried pulling Robb closer to her but she was too weak and two men started dragged him away from her, carefully by his arms and legs. Narcissa tried to stop them, scratching at the skin on their hands as they took him. She started crawling after them, miserably, her wet hands slipping on the stone floor as she tried pushing the corpses away. She would beg them to bring him back to her if that was what it took, she would do anything, anything at all but a warm hand on her shoulders pulled her back. “They’re bringing him to the healers. You cannot go with them, they’ll work better alone.” Lorenzo explained calmly, his long dark hair falling around her face as he crouched over his sister. His hands went to her armpits, trying to pull her up but she didn’t allow him to, kicking him with her feet and he let go of her. She was sobbing loudly, staring at her bloodied hands in front of her. And then the sobs turned into screams, loud enough to wake the dead she hoped. 

Narcissa felt her hand move to Roose and grabbed the dagger from his grip before stabbing him on the back with it again and again, until the blade got stuck between the ribs and she couldn’t pull it out. She screamed even louder then, but it was more like an agonizing shriek of a dying animal as she finally gave up and left the blade poking out of Roose’s back. 

“Pull yourself together, sister.” Lorenzo said sternly, watching over his Narcissa with concern even though the woman in front of him looked nothing like the Cissa he remembered. “Remember what our father said when he was sentenced to die: The whole tree does not die because one branch falls.” 

Narcissa felt the need hit him on the head with the figurative branch then. Robb was not a branch, he wasn’t even a tree. He was her entire forest and she needed him to breathe. “They, it, he,” she stuttered, still kneeling on the floor. “Robb, he…” She murmured, her sobs making her words unintelligible. 

“I know, sister,” Lorenzo groaned coldly, surveying the room to make sure they were out of harm’s way. “But remember who you are. A Medici, forged in gold and gold doesn’t cry.” 

Narcissa wanted to yell at him. She was a Medici no more, she was a Stark. She had just lost her baby, her mother-by-law, Clive and most likely Robb too. For all she knew, she might be the last Stark alive in this world. If anyone had a right to cry and scream, then it was her. She stared at her brother blankly, not recognizing him anymore, neither of them blinking until a shiver ran down her spine as she saw her reflection on her brother’s eyes. Kneeling, crying, weak and pathetic. That wasn’t her. 

Her sobbing stopped immediately and no more sounds came from her throat. The tears in her eyes disappeared almost at once and the wet streaks on her cheeks dried out on her skin just as her hands stopped shaking. She was a Medici and she was forged in gold. 

She held on to a chair for support as she pulled herself back to her feet with difficulty. Her knees protested at the effort and the soreness inside her stomach only grew worse but she bit her tongue and kept quiet. 

Narcissa stood up to her full height, eyeing her brother carefully before giving him a nod. He looked the same as always, long silky hair and all jaws. “You are right, brother.” She said, her voice surprisingly clear. 

She started making her way outside, well aware of her limp but still with her head held high as she avoided stepping on the corpses that littered the floor. She slipped a few times, the soles of her shoes covered in blood but she managed to regain her balance each time. The noises became louder as she approached the door. Screams, whimpers, groans and wailings but it didn’t make her feel anything at all, it was as if they weren’t even there. 

"Where is Walder Frey?" She asked over the screams. Men were dying at her command and she still felt no emotion over it. It was nothing more than a fact. They were dying and she was not. 

"We have him locked in a room, as you asked," the mercenary replied, eyeing her brother behind her. He wasn't sure whom he was to take orders from.

"Good. I'll pay him a visit later." She decided, making her way to the stairs before remembering. "As for Roose Bolton, make sure he is flayed and keep his skin in good shape."  
The mercenary nodded and Narcissa took the first step on the stairs.

Pain shot through her whole body, her legs and stomach protesting at the action as if she had been stumped on by thousand horses. And yet, after no more than ten steps, it stopped hurting all together. There was no more pain, neither on her body nor in her heart. She felt empty and light as they reached the top of the northern tower.

Narcissa walked over to very edge, wind beating her skin to numbness. She saw fires beneath her, slaughtered horses and dead men as the piles of corpses were still growing larger and she felt nothing. There was no fear or satisfaction, only emptiness and a tinge of curiosity. How bad would the smell be in the morning? How much time would it take to clean everything up? Would anything ever be the same again? She tried shaking the thoughts out of her head, instead taking in what was happening below her and making sure no one escaped alive. 

"You should really go see a healer," Lorenzo pleaded, appearing next to her. "And get cleaned up. I can smell the blood on you," he said.

"The blood on me did not come from a wound, Lorenzo," she explained flatly. "It came from my womb. I was with child."

Her brother went silent next to her until the meaning of her words hit him. "I am so sorry, Narcissa," he blurted out before kissing the top of her head. It felt foreign to feel his touch again. "But you still need to be examined, make sure the, the rest of you is unharmed." He stuttered.

"Right now I feel nothing, no pain. I am sure than in a few hours it will all come rushing down on me. Until then, I intend to enjoy this numbness." The truth was Robb would most likely die and none of his men could learn about her miscarriage. It would mean the Northern Kingdom had fallen with no heirs. She had to be a Queen tonight, she would have time to be a person tomorrow.

Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and turned around to see the Blackfish. He was covered in blood and guts, and smelled just as terribly but he was alive, that was more than most could say. "The traitors are being put to death as we speak,” he informed her, spitting on the floor. 

At least some good news. "I want everyone loyal to the Freys or the Boltons to be dead by sunrise."

“Women and children too?” Her brother asked, his gloved hand still on her shoulder.

“I said everyone, did I not?” Narcissa snarled through gritted teeth as her brother pulled his hand back as if he had just been burnt. 

The Blackfish nodded gravely, seemingly in agreement with her. "What do we do then?" He asked and Narcissa spun on her feet to stare at the vast lands surrounding her. She was certain than in the morning, the grass would be red and the mud tasting of blood. 

She looked as numb as she felt then, her features expressionless. "We’ll send one of Walder Frey's ravens to King's Landing. We’ll say the war is over and the Starks have lost. We’ll say Catelyn Stark, Robb Stark and Narcissa Stark are dead."

Both Lorenzo and Brynden looked they wanted to object but she didn't allow them the time. "Until then, you make sure no word, no man, no raven leaves the Twins. For all purposes now, we are all dead.” She might just as well be at this point anyway. Was she still being kept alive by her beating heart or on spite alone, she wondered. 

One of the Stark soldiers came running up to them. She didn't know his name but she had seen him around Robb often enough to recognize his face.

"There's a large man downstairs. He says that he has Arya Stark and that he wants to talk either to her mother or to her brother."

It didn't take a genius to figure out why he had come up to her with the message. Catelyn was dead, Robb might have died as soon as they took him from her. 

"Very well, I'll meet with him." Narcissa nodded before descending the stairs of the tower. The man was most likely lying but she owed it to Robb and to Catelyn to make sure. She almost slipped on the stairs, the blood on her heels not helping her keep grounded.

It was only when she was back downstairs that she noticed the mess. Broken furniture and torn tapestry everywhere, just like the corpses littering the floor.

The tall man stood in the hallway, surrounded by two mercenaries. He had horrible burn scars on the right side of his face and he was most likely the biggest man she had ever seen. "You wanted to talk, I'm listening." She deadpanned, leaning against the wall for support though from the outside it looked like nonchalance.

The man eyed her up and down. "I said I will only speak to Lord Stark or Lady Stark." He growled.

"I am the only Lady Stark in this castle and I'm listening," Narcissa replied, her patience running thin.

"I have Arya Stark." The man informed and Narcissa eyed him carefully, but was unable to decide if he was lying or not.

"How much you want in exchange?" She asked and he looked surprised by her directness. "State your price."

"Fifty thousand." The man stated confidently and Narcissa felt a strong need to laugh before managing to compose herself. Fifty thousand? That was the price for a person? She would pay it tenfold to get Robb back. Did the Old Gods accept Gold Dragons, she wondered with irony. 

"Give the man his gold," she said, looking at the mercenaries before sending him off with the scarred man.

The soldiers and the man disappeared outside and Narcissa turned to her brother. "That man is not to leave this castle alive." She ordered and Lorenzo nodded at her words. 

Suddenly, a small girl entered the hallway through the same door her brother had just disappeared in. Narcissa called her small but she was barely taller than the girl, though quite older. The girl didn’t look much like Catelyn or Robb, but then again, he had always told her how Arya had inherited the Stark looks and not the Tully’s features. Next to her the Blackfish was eyeing the girl just as suspiciously, he had never met either of his grandnieces. 

“I suppose you are Arya Stark,” Narcissa inquired politely.

“Who are you?” The dark-haired girl spat, taking a step back, her hand on the hilt on her thin sword and once again, Narcissa felt like laughing. “Kill me, please. I beg you,” she wanted to say and drop to her knees. 

“Your brother’s wife,” she replied curtly, stretching out of her hand. “Narcissa Stark.”

The girl didn’t shake her hand. Instead, she furrowed her eyebrows and took an ever more defensive stance. “Where is he? Where is my mother?” She hissed, looking around herself anxiously. Narcissa couldn’t blame her, it was a bloody mess. 

“Your brother,” Narcissa replied, at a loss for words. “He is currently not receiving visitors.” She said, trying to put it gently but the look on the girl’s face let her know she wasn’t fooled by the carefully chosen words. Good, it meant she was smart. “As for your mother, well she is…” She drawled, tilting her head towards the great hall hoping she would catch the meaning or that the Blackfish would explain the rest for her. 

Instead, the girl disappeared from their sight, running inside the dining hall without a warning. Brynden immediately followed her in, Narcissa took longer to move. Once inside, the first she saw was Clive’s body lying by the door and she had to force herself to look away before everything would come rushing back.

She watched Arya at the far end of the room, crouched over her mother’s body and Narcissa immediately regretted having let her inside. No child should see their mother like that. She knew the girl was crying, she could see her body shaking from afar and it made her feel powerless. 

“You should go talk to her.” Brynden muttered, suddenly appearing next to her as he too watched his grandniece cry over Catelyn. 

“And what do I say, huh?” Narcissa snapped, before taking a few breaths that made her lungs burn. “You are her granduncle, you should go.”

“She doesn’t know me, she won’t trust me.” The Blackfish replied shaking his head before lifting up the medallion Narcissa wore around her neck. “You are a Stark, she’ll trust you.”

Narcissa wanted to refuse once again, but didn’t. Instead, she walked over to the girl, carefully not to stare at Catelyn’s corpse for too long before opening her arms, inviting Arya in for a hug. The girl frowned in response but didn’t budge, still holding her mother’s hand in hers and Narcissa let her arms fall to her sides. She held the girl company for what felt like ages, even though it was most likely no more than an hour. The longer she stood still, the more she worried about Robb. Lorenzo had promised her he would let her know if there was news, but the more time passed, the more hope she lost. 

“Come with me,” she said at last, standing up. 

“Where are you going?” The girl inquired suspiciously. 

“To execute the man responsible for this, Walder Frey.” 

Arya still didn’t entirely trust her but followed her nonetheless out of the hall to the main corridor. Narcissa talked with Brynden before heading up the main staircase. Arya followed her silently, still overwhelmed by everything that was happening when Narcissa pulled up her skirts a little in order not to step on the hem, revealing streaks of blood on her ankles. Arya wanted to ask her about it, but it fell out of place. Everything felt out of place to her. 

They stopped in the chambers Narcissa and Robb shared, and Arya couldn’t help noticing her brother’s thick fur cloak draped over the back of a chair. Narcissa grabbed the Valyrian steel sword from her trunk and turned around, right in time to watch Arya’s fingers brush over her husband’s cloak, tears on her eyes. How long was it since Arya had been with her family? Two years? And now she would never be with her parents again, Robb neither most likely. Narcissa felt sorry for her.

She knew deep down that all hope was lost, she only needed to look down at her own hands to notice how much blood he had lost. And yet, right now, it all felt so far away, as if she was reading about it in a book, not living through it herself. Grief and sorrow was evident on Arya’s face, but Narcissa’s was stoic. Tomorrow she would mourn. She would cry and scream until her insides hurt as much as her heart, but tonight she couldn’t do it. She had to keep herself from thinking about it too long, or she would fall to the floor in a fetal position in tears, paralyzed by pain and entirely useless. 

Arya noticed the other girl staring at her then, but she supposed the appropriate term was woman. She had dark brown hair that somehow made her look older than her twenty maybe twenty-one namedays, or perhaps it was the dark circles under her eyes or her hollowed cheeks. Arya wondered how the girl looked, when she hadn’t been through a massacre and blood didn’t stain all her visible skin. What struck her most were her hands, they were so crimson it looked as if she had decided to wear gloves to match her dress. “Does it have a name?” Arya asked, suddenly noticing the sword in the other woman’s hands. 

Narcissa frowned as she looked down at the blade between her hands. The letters of her mother’s name shone in dimness of the chambers as clearly as if in bright daylight. And yet, somehow it felt wrong to give the name of such a kind woman to a deadly weapon. “It has now,” Narcissa decided. “Invicta.” 

Silently, both made their way to the lord’s chambers, down the narrow hallway. The door was already open when they got there and Brynden was standing before a shackled, kneeling Walder Frey. He looked even older like that, without his characteristic arrogance. Narcissa walked over to the bed and pushed back the covers, revealing white bed sheets just like expected. She handed the Blackfish her sword, tilting her head towards the bed before taking a seat on one of the chairs by the fireplace and beckoned Arya to her who hesitantly complied. 

Brynden lifted the man on the bed and had him kneeing on the mattress, before diverting his attention to Narcissa who gave him a quick nod. “Cut his throat. Shallowly.” ‘I have time’ she almost added. What could he do to them now that he hadn’t already? The Blackfish looked at his grandniece with worry, but the little girl didn’t look frightened. 

It was beautiful, truly. A real piece of art Narcissa looked forward to hanging on the wall, just next to the door leading to great hall. First, for a millisecond, there was only a thin red line on crimson skin. And then blood started spurting everywhere, her face included but most of it went on the bedsheets. 

She didn’t blink, afraid she would miss the cathartic moment if she did but it never came. Walder died just like he had lived – extraordinarily ordinarily and disappointingly. She had expected to find some peace with his death, a sense of vengeance but it felt empty in her heart. There was that gaping hole in her and Walder’s blood didn’t fill it up. 

She sat there for a full hour, long after her grandfather was nothing more than a corpse. She watched as the crimson red stain turned burgundy and crusty. Red truly was a horrible color, she realized. Bright or dull, it always meant death. Robb was right, blue was better. She gave the girl next to her a quick glance and noticed Arya looked just as contemplative. She was strong this one, Narcissa thought, she would undoubtedly amount to great things. 

There was a small knock on the door and Narcissa stood up, barely noticing the stain she had left on the cushion. It was her brother who stood outside and she couldn’t decipher his expression to decide whether he was the bearer of good or bad news. 

“Robb?” She asked urgently but it came out as a whisper. 

“Still no news,” Lorenzo replied apologetically, giving her sister’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It’s late, Cissa. You should see a healer, take a bath and get some rest. Tomorrow is another day.” He suggested carefully.

“I don’t need a healer.” She protested quietly. For now, she could allow herself that tiny irrational hope that everything was alright, that she had imagined the pain and that nothing had happened, that she still carried a piece of Robb within her. She would lose that last string of hope after a healer examined her and she wasn’t ready to let go of it just yet. “But I suppose it’s time for a bath,” she agreed reluctantly. 

Lorenzo nodded at her and disappeared into the dark corridors. Narcissa leaned on doorway, half inside, half outside, half alive, half dead as she waited for Arya. Had she truly sinned so badly, she needed to be punished like this, she asked herself. She thought back to her wedding day, to the four prayers she had addressed the Old Gods: To see her mother one last time, to let Gloria and Piero go back to Essos, for her to return home and most of all, not to make her widow. Surely, they would at least grant her the fourth prayer? 

Arya appeared next to her and together they made their way back to Narcissa’s chambers. Two copper tubs were waiting for them, filled with hot water. Narcissa didn’t miss a beat, immediately unlacing her dress and removing her chain mail. Bending forward, she was almost surprised to see that her bump was still there, even though a large bruise now covered the left side of her stomach. For some reason, she had expected it to be gone just like that. She raised her hand to her belly carefully, letting her hand glide over her warm skin until tears threatened her eyes and she quickly removed her hand. 

“Were you…?” Arya asked though the question came out strangled. Somehow, with all that had happened, she hadn’t noticed the bump before. It was weird to stare at Narcissa. To know that this woman in front of her had seen her mother every day for over a year, that she had married her eldest brother and carried his child, and yet, she was a complete stranger to her. “Did you, I mean, did you…”

Narcissa shook her head softly as she stepped foot into the tub, watching as that water immediately took on a reddish tinge. “Yes.” She admitted, lowering herself into her bath. What if she just lowered herself deeper, until her face was underwater and no more air reached her lungs?

Arya hesitated before taking off her clothes just like Narcissa had done but she noticed that the stranger woman had closed her eyes and in any case, she couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a proper bath. Besides, she didn’t exactly feel threatened by her presence. The water was too hot for her taste but she didn’t complain. There were worse things in life and she had just lived through most of them. 

Narcissa rubbed her skin vigorously until she had almost scraped away the uppermost layer of her skin and the water had run cold. She stepped out of the tub, splashing the stone floor with water before walking to the drawers to pick out two towels. Arya got up too, gratefully accepting one of the first towels from Narcissa’s hands. It was the first time they had touched. 

“You’re allowed to cry, you know,” Narcissa murmured quietly as if any noise at all was too much noise. 

“So are you,” Arya retorted but there was no hostility in her voice. 

“Tomorrow,” Narcissa replied with a smile as she got ready for bed, trusting her brother sufficiently that he would inform her as soon as there was an update. 

“Tomorrow.” Arya agreed with a small nod, putting on a nightgown the other woman set for her on the bed. 

Narcissa lied down on Robb’s side of the bed, desperate for his smell on the pillow. Tears were on her eyes again as his unique scent filled her nostrils. He smelled like a forest kept in perpetual winter and leather. Gods, how she hated the smell of leather and yet on him, it smelled like home. 

“Did my mother suffer, did they drag it out?” Arya wondered softly, tucked beneath the furs. 

“No, it was quick.” Narcissa replied. “She talked to me about you every single day, always worrying about your safety. Your mother loved you more than you can understand, she would have wanted you to know that.” 

She wondered if she would ever feel that mother’s love for her child, like Catelyn did. That woman set the Kingslayer free on the mere hope it would free her daughters. Narcissa wondered if she wouldn’t have done the same thing for the baby she had just lost. Despite her initial hesitation, Narcissa now would have given up her own life for it, in a heartbeat, no hesitation. 

Somehow, sleep managed to overcome her at last but her subconscious wasn’t kind. There was Robb right in front of her, dressed in thick furs as he stood in the snow, a little girl in his arms. She was tiny, oh so tiny, with bouncy auburn curls and brown eyes, opening her small mouth but only baby giggles came out of it and Robb chuckled at his daughter.   
Narcissa woke up after each dream that night, only to fall back asleep and relive that fantasy again and have it ripped out from her heart as soon as she woke up again and again. The fourth or fifth time was differen though, there was a hand on her shoulder and someone was shaking her up. 

Narcissa woke up startled, panicking until she recognized brother’s green eyes in the dark. He was hovering over with a torch in his hand. “It’s Robb.” He whispered flatly. It took her a few seconds to realize that this was not part of her dream before ripping the torch away from his hand and bolting out of bed without caring for her soreness.   
She ran through the narrow hallway, her long, white nightgown billowy flowing behind her, somehow instinctively knowing the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this wasn’t too bad! I felt my writing was somewhat off, I’m not used to writing intense scenes like this.   
> Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Also, the next chapter will be posted more quickly than this one, I promise!


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? I promised you this update would come quicker than the previous one, and I kept that promise! I proofread this, but there are bound to be some mistakes left, sorry. 
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy this. Please share yours thoughts with me! I’ve read all your reviews and comments from chapter 15 but haven’t had a chance to reply yet. I will do that as soon as I have time, but I do want you to know that I read them all and that they mean a lot to me :) 
> 
> I listened to the new GoT song, Jenny of Oldstones by Florence and the Machine, while writing this. Maybe I could encourage you to listen to it while reading this. 
> 
> Without further ado…

Narcissa woke up startled, panicking until she recognized her brother’s green eyes in the dark. He was hovering over her with a torch in his hand. “It’s Robb.” He whispered flatly. It took her a few seconds to realize that this was not part of her dream before ripping the torch away from his hand and bolting out of bed without caring for her soreness.   
She ran through the narrow hallway, her long, white nightgown billowy flowing behind her, somehow instinctively knowing the way. 

She passed a handful of soldiers on her way but none seemed to recognize her dressed like this. Nothing slowed her down, not the steep stairs she had to descend nor even the sharp turns she had to take where she felt the heels of her feet slip on the stone, her steps echoing in the high walls. All too quickly, she was standing by a closed door in front of a round man, dressed all in white robes. 

“Lady Narcissa de Medici, daughter of Sir Cosimo de Medici, I presume?” The round man asked, giving her a quick once over. He had a peculiar quality about him – neither young nor old, neither pretty nor ugly, neither reassuring nor scary, he just was. 

“Yes, that’s me,” Narcissa panted, still out of breath as she rested her arm against the wall for support. 

“My name is Leonardo Visconti, a healer from the Great City of Florence,” he said proudly, introducing himself before stretching out for her to shake which she reluctantly did. “Myself and the Medici family healer have been taking care of your Lord husband.” 

Narcissa waited for him to continue, but it seemed the man was all about dramatic pauses, as if expecting a reaction from her after every sentence and she was starting to lose patience. “And?” She asked urgently. 

“We were able to remove all the arrows. None of them pierced through an organ or a major blood vessel, though the one on the right thigh was source of a few complications.” He explained in a monotone voice as if he was reading her a chapter of a lexicon and not reporting on her husband’s status. She had almost forgotten this about most Florentine people she knew, a complete lack on emotion in all circumstances. “However, the stabbing wound was deeper than expected. Combined with the arrow injuries, we estimate the blood loss anywhere between 30 and 40 percent of the total blood volume, though the higher margin seems more likely.”

Narcissa looked at him expectantly, but he remained stoic. She closed her eyes, trying to remember her classes with that arrogant preceptor she disliked. She was sure she was once told how much blood an adult man had, but she couldn’t remember it. Wasn’t it one and a half gallons? She wanted to ask when the door was pulled open just a few inches and Frederico, a healer she knew all too well, walked out. He gave her a tight lipped smile as he took place next to Leonardo. 

“I am with child, or rather was,” Narcissa said quickly before correcting herself. “That ought to have increased my blood volume significantly, enough to allow a significant transfusion.” 

Frederico shook his head softly but didn’t say anything. He had always been a quiet man, even when he dined with them after examining her mother, he rarely said more than was absolutely necessary. “You do not share the same bloodline, the risk of rejection is too great,” Leonardo replied in his stead. “Besides, we are past that point now. The heartbeat was very elevated but the blood pressure too low when he got here. We tried to balance those out for the greatest part of the night, but the heartbeat slowed and the blood pressure didn’t pick up.” The round man drawled and Narcissa found herself nodding at each word, trying to make sense of it but her mind wasn’t cooperating. She raised her eyebrows at him, incenting him to continue but Leonardo didn’t pursue. 

Instead, Frederico stepped forward and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Narcissa, I am truly sorry.” The ginger man said compassionately, he knew the girl had already lost her mother only recently. “But the heartbeat is too faint. Too much time has passed already, and he hasn’t woken up…” He didn’t finish his sentence but Narcissa didn’t need him to. She knew how it went, if he has not woken up so far, he wouldn’t do it now. 

She knew her eyes were glistening with tears and she tried to rub them away with her fingers before anyone would notice, especially her brother. “You asked for me so I could say my goodbyes?” She asked then, with a forced smile, thanking them for their gesture. Both doctors slowly nodded at her. 

“Very well,” she breathed out, nodding as well. “I would like to be left alone,” she insisted, forcing her way past the men and to the door. 

Narcissa forced herself not to look at the bed right away. Instead, she noticed the open window and felt an unreasonable amount of anger at the sight. This was not how he liked it, the cold was coming in from the outside, as well as the smoke from the mass cremations outside. The room smelled of salt, Narcissa realized, the healers had most likely used a saltwater solution to clean the wounds. Immediately, she lit up a couple of candles and closed the window, barely noticing the red color on the stars in the sky despite the dusk. “It’s tomorrow,” she whispered to herself as she walked over to the fire to add more logs until the flames were so high, they were almost coming out of the fireplace. 

Only then did she allow herself to look at him. His skin was pale and somehow that took her by surprise even though she ought to have expected vessel constriction. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes resting on his cheeks. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could convince herself he was simply sleeping. 

Silently, she made her way over to the bed, pushing back the covers to lie down next him. She noticed all the bandages on his torso and quickly pushed the covers back up, to their chins and pretended those were not there. Narcissa grabbed his left arm and wrapped it around herself as she rested her head on the crook of his shoulder. She took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers as she tried to ignore the coldness of his touch. 

He was always so warm, irradiating heat no matter what. That was the one thing that had bothered her about him, when they fell asleep cuddling and she woke up sweating like she had been scorched by the sun. She would have given anything to feel that way now. 

Narcissa let her other hand rest on his chest. If she closed her eyes and focused hard enough, she could feel the weak, sporadic heart beat beneath her palm. She tried counting the seconds in between, quickly noticing that they were spacing out. 

“Arya is here,” she whispered as her tears fell on his chest and she quickly brushed them away, not wanting to taint him with her sorrow. “She looks well, and strong. She’s just as your mother described her to me – all boyish energy, no ladylike composure.” Narcissa chuckled at her words but it was a dry laugh, with no joy. 

“Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, all the Freys actually, they’re all dead,” she continued, absentmindedly playing with his chest hairs. “I thought you’d like to know that, so that you can be at peace.” Narcissa felt her heart tightening further with every word she spoke until her own heart was barely beating either. She might have killed them, but they had still won, they had ripped him away from her, ripped her happiness away from her. 

“My brother, Lorenzo, is here,” she smiled weakly as the tears ran inside her mouth, a feeble salty taste to them. “He’ll take good care of me, pull me together when I need him to. Don’t worry about me, Robb, I am strong. I’ll be standing long after all the Lannisters are dead.” She promised quietly. 

“But I’ll miss you, Robb. I’ll miss you so much you can’t even imagine,” she sobbed harder into his chest. She tried to make the tears stop but they kept coming out. “You were right all this time. You and I and our children in Winterfell, playing with the snow in the courtyard, that would have made me happy. I would do anything to make that dream come true.” She whispered on and on, but the longer she went on, the less her words made sense to a point where even she no longer knew what she was saying or if she was even speaking the common tongue any longer. A random string of words and cries as she kept her palm over his heart until she couldn’t feel it anymore. 

She lied still next to him, waiting for the next heartbeat. First a few seconds, then a minute quickly followed by another one, but she didn’t feel it again. And then the cries turned into curse words as she felt blood rush to her temples in the worst headache she had ever felt before. “This is not how it ends!” She shouted, sitting up abruptly on the mattress, her hair sticking to her face with dried tears. “I will not allow it to end like this,” Narcissa howled loudly in the dark room as she straddled his waist. 

She fisted her hands together and brought them to his chest, right over his heart and started digging them into his ribcage with all her strength before letting go all at once. Again and again, repeatedly, way past the point where her arms were shaking with effort and she could no longer feel her fingers, tightly laced together. Behind them, the fire was burning high in the hearth, too high. One more inch and it would set the drapes on fire. Despite it all, Narcissa was aware of it and yet she made no move to leave. Let them burn together! At least they would never leave each other that way. 

But eventually, even her anger wasn’t enough for her to keep going as she fell on his chest, completely exhausted, crying. This was it, this was really it, she muttered to herself, closing her eyes. It was over and there was nothing she could do. He was gone and not coming back. Narcissa started picturing a world without him in it but it was so dark, she couldn’t even make it out in her mind. 

She started to wonder whether she ought to call for Arya. The girl would most likely want to say goodbye to her eldest brother, Narcissa decided as she pulled herself away from him, her hand on his chest for support. And then she felt it, faintly, almost imperceptible beneath her fingers. Once, twice, thrice. Slowly but rhythmically, steadily. 

She picked up his arm abruptly, knowing that it would have hurt him but she didn’t care. Her fingers went to his wrist, applying just a little pressure. She felt it again, more strongly.   
“Robb!” She cried out, letting his arm fall back on the mattress as her hand anxiously went to his face, cupping his cheek and jaw. “Robb, wake up!” She insisted urgently. 

His blue eyes slowly fluttered open and she suddenly felt light as a feather. His eyes were trying to focus on anything, something and Narcissa knew he must be confused and startled after what had happened. She leaned forward to pour him a glass of water on the nightstand and then brought it to his lips, sliding her hand behind his neck to tilt his head forward so he wouldn’t choke. 

“I’m here, Robb,” she promised softly with a grin as she forced him to take a few sips of water. “Everything is okay. It’s over.” She repeated as his eyes finally appeared to focus on his surroundings and his pupils dilated when they landed on her. 

“Cissa.” He breathed with difficulty as he tried pulling himself upright, but she carefully pushed him back against the pillows. 

“It’s me,” she smiled, kissing his cheek before moving away from him, settling down next to him instead, suddenly conscious of her weight on his wounds. 

Silence settled in then, only broken by her relieved whimpers and the crackling of the fire, which was now burning lower in the fireplace, no longer threatening to burn them both. In a wave of euphoria, Narcissa started kissing every inch of his body as tears continued falling down her face, now in happiness. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, maybe the Gods had heard her prayers or maybe he was just that strong, but she didn’t care for details. Not when he was next to her, breathing again. 

“How is this possible?” He breathed out, his blue eyes wide open and Narcissa diverted her attention from his chest to his face, immediately noticing the deep frown. “I felt myself die, Cissa,” he whispered, slowly running his hand through her hair, carefully twisting one strand of dark hair between his index finger and thumb as if he couldn’t believe he was really touching it. Robb brought his hand to her cheek then, feeling the wetness between his fingers and he tried brushing the tears away, but it was like he was doing the gesture for the very first time. 

“But you didn’t, Robb. You didn’t,” she smiled brightly, removing the hand from her face and taking it between hers, before kissing it. “You’re still here and so am I. We’re still together.” 

He watched her smile. It looked both familiar and foreign, as if he had seen it a thousand times before and never at all, at the same time. Her eyes, he knew he had stared into them every day since they’d met but he was only now noticing the fine honey colored lines in the brown pupils for the first time. It felt like she was the only constant in his life and yet, he was rediscovering her again. “I love you,” he breathed. That had not changed. 

Narcissa was already by the door, throwing it wide open before Robb could even try protesting. Frederico and Leonardo, came rushing in at once, right to his bedside to examine him. Robb tried to pull away but Narcissa appeared in front of him again, taking his hand in hers and kissing it again. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. These are good people,” she promised. 

She watched attentively as the healers fussed over him, wanting to be certain it wasn’t just her tired mind playing tricks on her. Frederico turned to look at her, a surprised look on his face and Narcissa only felt her smile grow wider. This was real. 

“It seems the heart is beating steadily and blood pressure has substantially increased,” Leonardo commented to himself before turning to Narcissa. “I suggest strict bed rest for a few weeks, maybe even over a month,” he said and Frederico nodded in agreement. 

“Great!” Narcissa exclaimed before grabbing both healers by the back of their robes and dragging them to the door. “Have someone bring Arya over when she wakes up.” She made her way back to him as soon as they were left alone again. 

Robb looked at his wife, a thousand questions in his mind. He never thought he’d see her again. When his eyes closed the last image on mind was Narcissa bludgeoning Roose’s head and he had been quite sure that would be the last thing he ever saw. “How?” He breathed out with difficulty even though his throat was no longer dry. “I saw him stab you, in the chest,” he murmured, suddenly afraid she was only a mirage, a way to torture him further. Maybe he had died and gone to hell, and he would have her ripped away from him again. 

“I was wearing a chain mail,” she replied with a short smile, noticing him frown at the words. “It’s a long story. But the blade never made it past the metal.” Narcissa replied, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, next to him. 

“So the baby…?” Robb asked, his face suddenly illuminated with hope as if he hadn’t been dying just minutes ago. He remembered clearly, watching her being stabbed twice, first on the chest and then the belly. Even if arrows hadn’t started hitting him from everywhere then, he would fallen to his knees all the same at the sight.

It broke her heart to know she would be the bearer of bad news. Edmure, Maege, Clive, they were all dead. So was his mother. And Grey Wind, she didn’t even about the dire wolf. “I started bleeding after the second hit,” Narcissa admitted, ashamed she hadn’t been able to protect their baby. “Not from a wound, there was none, but from…” She whispered, unable to finish her sentence. 

“It’s not your fault, Cissa,” Robb immediately murmured, his eyes boring into hers, somehow knowing what she was thinking. He had been looking forward so much to having a son, already loving his child even though it wasn’t yet born but he was alive, so was she. That was more that he would have dared asking for. In due time, maybe, they could try again. “What did the healer say? Are you alright?” 

Narcissa averted her gaze to the floor. Despite his words, she knew it was her fault. Her family had never seen it like that, but she knew how things were outside of her home. Women had one purpose, one purpose only, and it was bearing children and she wasn’t even capable of that. An utter failure was what she was. “I haven’t seen a healer yet,” she confessed. 

Luckily for her, Arya came barging in then, running right to Robb without missing a beat. He hugged her back despite his injuries but Narcissa could see the way his face twisted with pain as the girl wrapped her arms tightly around her brother. 

Narcissa tiptoed to the door, hoping none of them would notice her leave. She closed the wooden door behind herself as quietly as she could. Walking back to her bedchambers to change into proper clothes she noticed the windows had been opened and bright light was streaming through now. They would be alright. 

-/-/-/- 

“I didn’t even know you were coming with the mercenaries,” Narcissa said loudly, announcing her presence to her brother who looked like he had been expecting her. 

He scoffed before replying. “Father said my little sister was in trouble. I wasn’t about to sit still and do nothing.”

Narcissa smirked at him, before taking a seat at the same table, purposefully avoiding looking at the floor. “Took you long enough to get here,” she commented, finding a half full wine glass on the table and drinking it. 

“Bad weather slowed us down, both on sea and on land.” He replied sternly and Narcissa looked away, pursing her lips. A slaughter wasn’t avoided because of bad weather, how characteristically absurd of life. 

“They tried to kill you.” Lorenzo stated calmly, twirling his gold dagger between his fingers. Narcissa had always disliked that thing, an ostensible display of wealth that was of very poor taste. 

“And they failed.” She concluded just as calmly, leaning back against her chair. How she had missed her brother! They had been educated under the same rules, taught the same structure. She felt like an entirely different person when she was with him, like the Narcissa she had been before leaving Essos. 

Lorenzo twirled his dagger one last time before throwing it at the wooden door where it forcefully landed in the very middle, only the hilt sticking out. “Their failure doesn’t affect the fact that they attempted to murder you, sister,” Lorenzo hissed, taking a sip of red wine before spitting it back out. It really wasn’t the same quality as back home. “No one can plot to kill a Medici and live to the tell the tale.”

Narcissa sighed at his words, almost pointing out the fact that they had in fact succeeded in killing a Medici but decided against it. Her brother was already angry enough as it was and she had never enjoyed his hot-headedness. “Roose Bolton is dead. So is Walder Frey and all his heirs. They didn’t live to tell the tale, brother.”

“Does that make me the Lord of the Twins, now?” Lorenzo asked sarcastically though he was most likely right. They were the last two Freys in the castle. Narcissa had even made sure Olyvar was executed though she didn’t know if he was even involved. “We both know who is behind all this. The Lannisters cannot attack the Medici family and run away free.”

“What would you have me do?” Narcissa sighed, rubbing her temples. She was tired to such an extent that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t change anything. And now Lorenzo had just accidentally reminded her they still needed to deal with Roose’s bastard. 

“Come with me to Florence and plot their downfall with father. I know he doesn’t condemn war but this was a direct attempt on his darling daughter.” Her brother replied, making her remember that she had yet to ask about how father was coping as a widower. She hoped Valentino was with him. “He’ll hire the Golden Company and their elephants and march them into King’s Landing!”

Narcissa smirked at his suggestion. Yes, that was definitely her brother. Brute force. “I am the Queen in the North, Lorenzo. I shall live and die in Westeros.” She exhaled deeply, taking a look around the room. The corpses had been removed but blood still littered every surface and arrow stuck out every piece of furniture. Maybe that explained the wine’s funny taste. “As for the Golden Company, that is out of question. I am not marching elephants to Westeros only to have them slaughtered for my cause. Besides, those mercenaries cost a fortune.” 

“Who else can afford them but us?! Before long, not even the Lannisters will, their mines have run dry!” Lorenzo shouted, standing up abruptly before pacing around the room, not carrying to dirty his shoes with blood. 

“It’s not because we can, that we should. Remember father’s words.” Narcissa took another look around the room, trying to imagine how it would look once cleaned. Maybe they could turn it into sanctuary for those who had lost their lives in the slaughter. “I know father would hire them if I asked but I refuse he spend so much money for me.” Giovanni and Cosimo had not worked their whole lives for her to squander their fortune like this. 

“What good is money if we don’t spend it to keep the family safe? What good is our name if it doesn’t convey respect and fear? ” Lorenzo protested, standing right where he had found her the previous night. His little Cissa on her knees, wounded, crying and screaming. That would not go unpunished.

Narcissa was silent, still sitting by the table. Did she really need twenty thousand men? Wasn’t one powerful man worth five thousand soldiers? She had managed to control the Signoria during her father’s exile without ever setting foot inside the building. Wasn’t the same possible with King’s Landing?

“I think it’s time for me to go outside and thank the soldiers for their service.” Narcissa stated, not waiting for her brother’s agreement. She wasn’t quite sure if they’d welcome her, maybe they’d think she was in on her grandfather’s shenanigans but she couldn’t leave them in the dark about what was going on inside the keep.

The hallway was eerily quiet and empty. The sound of her heels clicking on the stone echoed under the high ceilings. Narcissa stopped for a moment once she was sufficiently far back to enjoy the new art pieces. Bloody bedsheets hung on one side of the double doors while Roose’s skin decorated the stone wall on the other side. Now this was art. 

Four guards pulled open the gates as they saw her approach, respectfully bowing their heads at her with whispers of ‘your Grace’ but Narcissa was mesmerized by the sight in front of her. Rows and rows of spikes with their enemies’ heads adorned the courtyard. She recognized Black Walder’s first and decided then that his skull would make a very useful lantern once the crows had finished their job. 

Narcissa descended the stairs as a fresh gush of wind hit her face, smelling of death. Will everything smell of death from now, she couldn’t help but wonder. Will there ever be a day when she won’t see the image of a dying Robb as soon as she closes her eyes? Narcissa mounted her horse on her own for the very first time and was surprised to succeed on the first attempt. 

She rode out of the courtyard into the fields surrounding the castle where the tents had been set up. Carmel stepped on dozens of corpses as Narcissa toured part of the encampment. Every man stopped what he was doing as she rode past them, dressed entirely black with a lace dress the same color as a raven. “The angel of the night,” she heard a Stark soldiers speak. 

Slowly the men started gathering around her. Narcissa noticed there were about as many Stark soldiers left as there were mercenaries, but she also remarked that none of them wore defeat on their face, all looking about as angry as she felt. 

“Yesterday,” Narcissa bellowed loudly for every man to hear, “a slaughter took place in this very site. We lost Lady Catelyn Stark, Lord Edmure Tully, Lady Maege Mormont, Clive Havield and many more men I am ashamed to admit their names I do not know though I grieve for them all the same.”

“Yesterday, I failed you as your Queen. I led you into this place, into this massacre believing that we were safe in my grandfather’s home. I apologize to all of you, to every Northern and Riverland Man and Woman and Child for not having been able to foresee and prevent this.”

“Today, I stand before you as a humbled Queen and woman. The loss we all suffered last night will never be fully compensated but seeing our enemies’ heads on spikes in the courtyard was a first step in that direction. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton paid for their treason with their lives, I saw to it myself and I invite you all to visit the great hall. The Lannisters won’t escape either, that I can promise you.”

“Last night, they tried to assassinate their Queen and yet she stands here before you today,” Narcissa stopped for a moment to catch her breath and heard the men cheering around her. “Last night, they tried to assassinate their King and yet Robb Stark is still in that castle behind me, living and breathing as we speak.” She announced, immediately spotting the relief on every man’s faith. “Last night, they tried to defeat the Kingdom of the North and they failed!”

“Today, we tend to our wounded, bury our dead and mourn our losses. They think we are dead, they think they have defeated us. Let them!” Narcissa shouted and was met with confused stares as expected.

“Today is Hour Zero. Today we begin anew, from our ashes. Stone by stone, step by step until we are stronger than we ever were before. And then, we take the Lannisters by surprise just as they did to us!” 

Narcissa rode off, back to courtyard, surrounded by Robb’s men, her men and their cheers. Brave people they were, able to laugh and smile so soon after the massacre. She felt jealous of them. They carry out orders with the strength of their bodies while Narcissa would lock herself in a room, trying to find some way to clean this mess. For now, she had managed to cut all communication with the rest of the continent but she wasn’t sure how long she could keep their survival a secret. Weeks most likely, months if they were quite lucky. 

She was heading straight to her late grandfather’s office when she felt two pairs of hands lift her up by her arms and shoulders. Narcissa tried to kick the men, hoping to set herself free but they were quick to subdue. Lorenzo and the Blackfish were carrying her in the opposite direction, to her bedchambers. Her brother kicked open the door and Brynden carried her to bed. She tried to get up just as soon as her back had touched the mattress but he held her down as Frederico and Leonardo made their way inside the room. 

“Don’t even think about running off because he and I will be standing guard outside and you won’t get past us,” her brother said, pointing at Brynden before leaving her alone with the healers. 

“I know you don’t want to be examined, but your brother is very worried about you, Narcissa.” Frederico said, putting on a clean robe over his clothes as Leonardo lit a few more candles for light. 

Narcissa sighed with resignation, arranging the pillow behind her head. “Just get it over with,” she ordered in a groan. 

It took longer than she had expected. She complied with every instruction – turning on her side when asked, pulling up her dress and parting her legs when instructed to and kept her mouth shut when they listened to her heartbeat. Frederico rubbed a balm over the hematomas on her breast and belly as Leonardo wrote something down on a piece of paper after palping her stomach. This was ridiculous, really. She knew what they would say, she wasn’t a healer but she wasn’t stupid either. 

She ripped the parchment from Leonardo’s hand, managing to read just ‘detached placenta’ before he grabbed the paper back. She watched as they moved to the far end of the room and started talking in hushed voices. Her examination was over and she got dressed. She opened the door and found there was no one outside. They had lied to her, she thought with dry amusement. 

Narcissa picked up a fast pace as she finally headed to the Lord’s office and locked herself inside it. Finally, she was alone for the first time since the wedding. Finally able to be herself, she grabbed a liquor bottle and a glass from a small table by the door. She set both things down on the desk and sat on the fancy chair. She poured herself a drink, filling up the glass to the rim and drank it all until her head started spinning. She didn’t have a baby Stark to worry about no more. Maybe Robb would even find himself another wife in time if it turned out she was no longer able to conceive after her miscarriage. 

She filled her cup again, emptying the bottle in the process and threw it against the wall where it exploded into a thousand pieces. Narcissa lifted her legs and rested them on the desk before lifting her glass in front of her as if wanting to give a toast. “To my enemies’ failure,” she scoffed drily and then drowned the whole cup all at once, a burning sensation in her throat. 

She knew that in King’s Landing a small council meeting would be held as soon as they received news of the slaughter, celebrating their Lannister victory and the Stark’s defeat. She could almost imagine the crude jokes that would be shared around their fancy table. No doubt they would be calling the wolf bitch who lost her pup. Would they ask for their heads as proof or would the letter be sufficient, she wondered. Maybe she’d try to find three similar looking heads later in the courtyard. 

Narcissa tried to picture every person who would be sitting in the council room miles and miles away from her. Tywin at the head, no doubt. Maybe the cowardly king would make an appearance, even if only to taunt Tyrion. She knew Tyrion would be there too. Would he laugh at the news with the others, celebrate her death? Somehow she couldn’t imagine him doing it. They were friends even if they had only met once. 

The Queen Mother would be there too. Robb had once told how she dressed fancily, draped in expensive fabric and jewelry. Most likely to forgot the fact that her late husband preferred spending his time with whores instead of with her, he had told her in their tent. “Queen Mother.” The words tasted bitter in her tongue. Would she ever be a Queen Mother herself? Would Cersei Lannister laugh when she found out a pregnant woman had been slaughtered, or would there be an ounce of motherly compassion that would prevent her from enjoying those news? Narcissa didn’t care much about the woman’s reaction. They had taken her daughter, she would take hers. Myrcella was it? She didn’t remember exactly but she did know the girl was in Dorne with Oberyn. 

And then her mind wandered to the only other person she was sure would be sitting by that table – Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger as his foes called him for friends he had not. What did Littlefinger want? The Lannisters, it was obvious enough. They were family and they wanted the throne. But Littlefinger? He was smart enough to know a throne was a dangerous place to sit your arse on. Kings had a tendency to lose their heads after all. Money, yes, everyone wanted money. Even she wanted it even though she had been born in a golden crib. But there came a point where you had enough of it, it stopped being your first craving. He had brothels all around King’s Landing and those were very lucrative businesses no matter where in the world. Lorenzo on his own had most likely turned the local brothel holder in Florence into a rich man, Narcissa reflected with a smirk. Yes, money wasn’t it. 

What could a man who already had it all still want? Dragons? They were extinct except if the rumors in Essos were true. Titles? Titles meant nothing when you already wielded all the power. 

“What do I want?” Narcissa asked herself, staring outside through the open window. “I have money, I have a title, I have a throne. But what do I want?” She wondered, speaking to herself. Many would have believed her crazy, talking to herself, but she didn’t truly care about other people’s opinions. Except Robb’s. 

The realization of it made her slap her first on the desk as she pulled her legs back down. With new energy, Narcissa grabbed a clean piece of parchment and dipped the tip of the feather into the inkwell. Some wars were won with swords, others with ink and ravens. It was a risk, Baelish could decide to share her letter with the Lannisters but somehow she knew he wouldn’t, not when she promised him his heart’s desire. 

Dear Lord Baelish,

We have not corresponded before and yet I write to you now with an offer you cannot refuse. As you will have realized after reading this letter, the Boltons and the Freys were defeated at the Twins. The wolves, however, continue howling in the night.   
Having been a widow for over a year, Lady Catelyn Stark finds herself in need of a new husband and who is more appropriate for the role than her longtime childhood friend?  
Alas, as you will understand, the hand of such a highborn lady come at a high price. The King in the North will offer you his mother’s hand in marriage on two conditions: Bringing Lady Sansa Stark to us safe and sound, and assassinating the bastard king, Joffrey. 

With our very highest regards, 

Lady Narcissa de Medici-Stark, Queen in the North and Lord Robb Stark, King in the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robb is still here! I’m not that cruel!
> 
> I’m on holidays now, which means I have more time to write but since from now on, there will be major divergences with the show, I don’t how long updates will take. But I’ll do my best to update regularly!
> 
> No spoilers from season 8, but I’ve just watched the three first episodes and I’m enjoying this season (and season 7, too) so much that I really want to write my take on that, so I intend to cover that timeline in this story :)
> 
> Thank you for the feedback and the follows/likes etc. Not only do they make me happy, but they encourage me to write whenever I have some free time which means regular updates ;)


	18. A/N

A/N

I’ve been receiving many messages about this, so let me start off by saying that this fic is NOT abandoned!   
I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated and there are three reasons for that:  
1\. I didn’t manage to write ahead during my exams and thought that once my exams were done, I’d have a lot more time to write but I failed to understand just how time consuming applying for LLMs is… Also, I needed to sit an English examination to be allowed to study in the UK so I had to focus on that too (btw, it didn’t go very well…).   
2\. The next chapter has been rewritten four times at this point… And I have to admit I bit off more than I could chew. At the beginning, this fic was a little idea that I had and the wish to develop a Robb/OC relationship, nothing more. Overtime, plot became a large part of this story and this is something that takes some time to plan before actually writing it out, which leads me to reason 3…  
3\. I never expected for so many people to read and enjoy this story. The number of comments and reviews that I’ve received was unexpected and I’m now a little scared of disappointing you. This is why it’s taking me more time to update because I want to write something worth reading.

On the good news now: The next chapter is almost finished and I intend to publish it within the next two days. And I hope with all my heart that you will not be disappointed.   
But there’s a favor that I need to ask of you: It would really help me out if you could send me some advice (is there anything in particular, a scene, that you would want to see in this story?) and also what tell me what you expect of this story. Do you want it to focus first and foremost on Narcissa and Robb’s relationship, or do you want plot to take up a bigger part?

Thank you all for your support <3

PS: My new fiction will in no way impede the continuation of this story. The only reason why it was updated while Across the Narrow Sea wasn’t, is because I had some chapters that were already written out.


	19. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is (finally)!
> 
> Warning: Disturbing themes including depression.

 

Even now, Narcissa still remembered the funerals as if she were going through them again. Robb had still been bedridden then and she had given all the speeches on her own, feeling alone even in the midst of the soldiers. Brynden was there, so were Lorenzo and Arya but it didn’t help her loneliness. And truly, how stupid her idea had been to hold them all on the same day.

 

First, Maege Mormont’s in the morning and Narcissa witnessed her daughter, Dacey, cry for the first time. Narcissa didn’t allow herself to cry; somehow that didn’t seem appropriate for a queen. Then, Catelyn and Edmure’s in the afternoon. Arya had asked to be the one setting her mother’s funeral boat on fire with a flaming arrow and she hadn’t seen a reason why not. Brynden and Arya hit their target on their first try, and Narcissa watched the boats float down the Green Fork. They would certainly have preferred a proper funeral in Riverrun but their corpses would decay before the people had enough strength to travel.

 

She endured it all with what her brother called ‘natural Medici poise’. Narcissa chuckled drily but didn’t correct him. It wasn’t poise, it was a paralyzing sadness but she was queen and poise did have a better ring to it.

 

The worse, for her, were the funeral pyres in the evening and Clive’s concomitant burial. He had told her once that he’d rather be buried then set on fire and she thought that, at the very least, she owed him that much. Lorenzo and Brynden dug his grave at her request. She wanted to help but both refused, stating that her condition didn’t allow such an exertion. If she had to pinpoint a moment when she started losing her queenly poise, it was then.

 

Narcissa said a few words in the King’s name and then was left to watch the bodies go up in flames and Clive’s be lowered into the ground, making a mental note to send financial compensation to his family. No money in the world could make up for the loss of a person, but it was as close as they came to it as mortals. The recent events had made sure to remind her once more just how mortal everyone truly was. One second – not even that – that was all it took.

 

The fires burnt for hours and most soldiers left when the sky became too dark and the air too cold, until the smoke burned their eyes. So did everyone else. Lorenzo simply wrapped his cloak over hers and headed inside at last, simply making her promise not to stay out all night. He knew her well enough to know pushing her was useless and she was thankful for that.

 

It was only once everyone had left that Narcissa allowed herself to say goodbye to the one person who hadn’t gotten their funeral yet. She eyed the keep behind her, almost afraid Robb would see her through the windows but she knew Arya would have gone straight to him.

 

Knowing no one would be able to see her in the darkness, that she didn’t have to keep up her queenly façade, Narcissa finally allowed herself to fall on her knees and sob. She had been holding it off since the previous night when she got back to the bedroom after locking herself in Walder’s office for hours. Robb had been waiting for her, a large smile on his face and she wondered how he could be smiling after everything that had happened. In fact, he was so jubilant , he didn’t notice the strong smell of alcohol on her or if he did, he didn’t comment. And then he told her the healers had come to him after her examination.

 

Narcissa forced a smile upon her face as he shared the news with her, trying to match his glee. She was good at lying, as he had reminded her once so long ago, and he was worn out by the medication, and they fell asleep next to each other. She was actually impressed by how she had been capable to keep herself from crying in his presence, but maybe guilt did that to someone.

 

But now, she was alone and she let herself grieve for the daughter she had lost. Of course, they didn’t know if it had been a girl at all. It hadn’t been “expelled” from her body, as Leonardo had so unsensitively put it but he was a Florentine and that was not surprising. Yet, in her heart, she knew it was a girl.

 

She cried for the little girl she would never hold in her arms and who would never know her parents. “You only realize the importance of something after you lose it,” Narcissa whispered to herself and the common saying had never rung more true in her ears. She hadn’t been particularly excited at the news of her pregnancy, but now there was nothing she wanted more than be a mother to this little girl. To the little Amara. Robb would have been the most doting of fathers to their baby daughter, there was no doubt about that and she would have done her best to be a decent mother. Instead, she cried for a baby girl who would never get to feel her parents’ love.

 

Narcissa had carried a knife inside her cloak all day since breaking fast, grabbing it from the table without anyone noticing. She finally took out and eyed the silverware. It wasn’t exactly the sharpest of blades, but it was far from blunt and she wasn’t wearing an armor anymore. It would pierce through her skin and flesh as if it were butter on a hot day.

 

She lifted her gown until it revealed her thigh which shone white under the moon light. She palped her leg, searching for that blood vessel she had learned about many years ago in a book. It was easier to cut through your  leg than through your own throat she figured and lowered the knife until the blade rested on her skin.

 

“I am sorry I couldn’t save you,” she whispered, looking up at the moon. “Please forgive me.” Narcissa waited for a reply, something to let her know that her daughter was willing to forgive but there were no stars, let alone a shooting star or something symbolic. There were only heavy clouds and just as she was about to look down again, rain started falling from the skies. Not just a few droplets, but the heaviest of rains. Narcissa smiled for a second at the irony of it as she became drenched within instants, fabric clinging to her body and raindrops sliding down her skin.

 

She tried sliding the knife across her skin but it slid off her wet hands. Panicking, she picked it up from the ground again but it kept slipping off her fingers and a different guilt took over.

 

Robb would never forgive her, he had told her only hours before how he needed her and how he couldn’t bear to lose her. And Narcissa couldn’t bear to lose her daughter, but she didn’t say that out loud and instead promised him she would never leave him. What kind of person was she if broke her promise to the only man she had ever loved? A selfish one, without doubt, willing to inflict him pain just so she didn’t have to live through hers. He would never forgive her treason, especially not under the circumstances.

 

-/-/-/-

 

“How far south has the security perimeter been extended?” Narcissa asked her brother as they walked around the keep. She was desperate to leave this place as soon as possible but many men were still recuperating and for the time being, it had to be their center of operations.

 

“According to Brynden’s letter, they’ve just arrived at Raventree Hall,” Lorenzo replied.

 

She took a moment to picture the map of Westeros in her mind and then nodded curtly. Progress perhaps wasn’t as fast as she had hoped for, but at least it was constant. “Any incidents?”

 

Lorenzo gulped and looked away for a second before resuming their fast pace but it didn’t go unnoticed by his sister and the cock of her eyebrow let him know she expected an answer. “There was a family whose loyalty might be questionable,” he muttered, as if hoping she wouldn’t hear him.

 

“I presume this was dealt with?” Narcissa asked matter-of-factly, not that focused on the conversation anymore, and instead going over all the tasks she still had to complete before dinner. Her main priority, however, was to check up on Robb. She hadn’t seen him since morning.

 

“It has.” Her brother assented but he had hesitated too long.

 

“How long until I can hold their heads in my hands?” She inquired, stopping in her tracks to make him face her but she already knew the answer. “For you sake, brother, I hope their heads are no longer attached to their bodies,” she said, trying to remain calm.

 

“It was just an old couple and their daughter. Apparently, their son moved to the Crownlands a few years back and is now part of the Lannister army,” Lorenzo explained, his heavy brows casting a shadow over his green eyes. “They were reminded of their loyalty to the Lord of Riverrun and issued a warning. There is nothing to worry about.”

 

Narcissa eyed him closely, waiting for the moment where he’d tell her it was all a joke but it never came. “No, Lorenzo, there is little to worry about. Once, they’re dead however, there will be nothing to worry about so I ask you go to your chambers and write to Lord Tully.”

 

“They’re not our enemy. The Lannisters are,” he reminded her, as if she needed the reminder.

 

“And we can only defeat our enemies if we manage to keep our survival a secret until we are ready to attack.”

 

“So, your plan is to behead everyone who might pose a risk?” Lorenzo asked incredulously and yet she didn’t flinch. That was exactly what she intended to do. “Do you know how you sound right now, sister? No? Well, let me tell you-”

 

His voice rose until he was actually yelling at her. Narcissa couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken to her like that. Somehow, she managed to earn the soldiers’ respect and they now followed her orders without a question. Robb never raised his voice at her, even when they disagreed. But this was Lorenzo, her older brother and manners had never been his strong suit.

 

“-losing your head. If you execute everyone of whose loyalty you can’t be entirely certain, you won’t have anyone to rule over!”

 

Her palm collided with his cheek before she had even registered giving her arm an order to move. And yet, her hand now hung midair, the palm still tingling and her brother’s cheek was a furious red. Lorenzo was staring at her more with shock than actual pain.

 

“I’m not making the same mistake Lord Eddard Stark made. It takes one word – one single word – and they’re at our doors. I will not let that happen.” Narcissa said slowly, making sure to speak out each syllable. “You’re the new Lord of the Crossing. If you cannot find it in yourself to follow my orders, then by all means, throw me out.”

 

“I would never – “ Lorenzo was quick to protest, as if the very idea repulsed him.

 

“I’ll see you at supper then.” Narcissa concluded before walking away, leaving him stranded in one of the secondary corridors.

 

Over the past few weeks, she had learnt her way around the keep as if it had always been her home. Mostly, this came in handy when avoiding people and this was pretty much all she did now – avoiding people. Her temper had become quick to rise recently and the only way to keep it under control was to be alone.

 

She took one last turn, and then she saw him, clad only in breeches and a haphazardly tied shirt. Robb hadn’t seen her yet, too focused on Frederico’s words and Narcissa took a few steps back, hiding behind the wall so he wouldn’t immediately notice her presence.

 

“Is the pain tolerable? Do you feel steady, your Grace?” Frederico asked Robb, notepad in hand, leaning against the stone wall.

 

Narcissa watched Robb take a few steps, his hand firmly gripping the cane. A grimace appeared on his face and she had to force herself to stay put and not intervene. His pain hurt her more than any of hers ever had, but the healer insisted it was important he practice every day. She wanted to tell Frederico it was too early, but time was a luxury they did not have. Still, it made her stomach clench whenever she saw his thigh. Robb always joked about it, saying she should dump him already, claiming she deserved more than invalid with an ugly scar. Narcissa would then playfully hit his shoulder, tell him he should not joke about such things and that it didn’t bother her.

 

That was a lie, of course. She could not care less about his scar – he already had so many of them, it was part of him really and he was a warrior after all. Besides, she was pretty certain she’d love him no matter how he looked. What bothered her was that each time she looked at it, her mind would unfailingly drift to Walder Frey, Roose Bolton and the Lannisters. Another reminder of how close she had been to lose everything.

 

“It’s there but I can tolerate it,” Robb replied through gritted teeth. “And the cane is the right size.” He added, taking another step just to confirm his assertion.

 

Frederico wrote something more on his notepad as he nodded. “Maybe we should try the stairs.”

 

_The stairs? On his own?_ Narcissa thought with panic, before jolting forward and revealing her presence. Just as she did, the grimace disappeared from Robb’s face and a small smile graced his lips instead. He was so intent on hiding his pain from her, and yet she did not know why. It’s not like she would think any less of him - dozens of arrows had pierced through him, after all. It was a miracle he was even alive. Still, it made her feel like there was now a distance between them. Why couldn’t he confide in her? Not just about the physical pain, but also the whole treason and of losing his mother. Narcissa wasn’t the warmest of people but they were beyond that, weren’t they? She had cried all over his body for Gods’ sake!

 

“I think that’s enough for today, Frederico,” Narcissa chirped cheerfully, waltzing in. “I believe Leonardo wanted to discuss something with you before dinner.” A lie, another one to add to the collection.

 

Frederico turned to Robb again, silently asking if he could retire. “You may leave. Enjoy your evening,” Robb said, kindly as ever.

 

Narcissa watched the healer leave before walking over to her husband, wrapping her arm tightly around his free arm, inviting him to put some weight on her but he didn’t. He never did. “We should get changed for dinner,” she spoke softly, focusing on her feet, trying to keep his face.

 

“I thought that maybe we could supper alone in our chambers tonight. Arya wants to eat with the Hound,” Robb suggested a little hesitantly. “That is if you want to, of course.”

 

She looked up, surprised by his hesitation, only to notice he was already gazing down at her. Narcissa tried to find something different in his face but it looked like it had always done– dashing blue eyes, strong jaw, bouncy brown curls and soft pink lips. When she looked at him like this, when the scars were hidden beneath his clothes and the cane was out of her sight, it was like nothing had even happened. There was no lingering evidence, nothing alluding to the massacre they had lived through. As if it hadn’t even happened. It made her wonder if her face, too, still looked like the same or rather, if she was still the same.

 

“I would like that very much.”

 

They walked inside their chambers only to notice a servant had already readied the room for the night; pulled back the covers on the bed and started a small fire in the hearth. Narcissa kept the door open until a maid walked by so she could ask to have dinner served in their chambers, and then went to sit at her dressing table. She didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t remember the last time she had retired this early. It gave her too much time to think and once her favorite pastime, she now found herself avoiding it.

 

For the lack of a better thing to do, Narcissa grabbed her hairbrush and started gliding it through her hair. Thanks to the mirror, she could see Robb’s side as he stared out of the open window. He wasn’t even frowning, he actually looked serene. For the past month, she had waited for the moment where he’d – she wasn’t even sure. Maybe yell? Or throw things around? But it never came, and as the weeks passed, she doubted it ever would.

 

How did he manage to act like nothing had happened? At first, she was impressed by his composure but that turned to anger at some point. Why could he move on and she couldn’t? Was she really so much weaker than him, she couldn’t help but wonder.

 

“Here, let me help you.”

 

Despite its softness, Narcissa was still startled by his voice. Robb was standing right behind her, his face impassible and his hand outstretched. Slowly, she handed him the brush and he started combing it through her hair much more delicately than she ever bothered to.

 

They were standing so close, she was able to smell him. It was the same musky scent that never left his pillow, the one she fell asleep to every night and woke up to every morning since their marriage. The scent that meant home to her, no matter where, not matter what – even her falling apart.

 

“Do you think I should shave it?”

 

Once again, she was startled and it took her a few moments to notice what he meant when she saw him look at himself in the mirror. It was true, his beard had grown a little longer since – Narcissa realized that was the only thing in his face that had changed and suddenly she was scared he would remove the last piece of evidence that something had happened.

 

Instinctively, she reached behind herself, bringing the back of her hand to his cheek and he leaned forward until their heads were almost touching. His beard was surprisingly comforting, the hairs neither too soft, nor too rough. “No, I like it like this,” she whispered.

 

He smiled at her words before kissing the crown of her head and then going back to brushing her hair even though there were no knots left.

“I received a letter from Lord Baelish today.” Narcissa announced before realizing that maybe it wasn’t the best moment but Robb nudged her to continue. “He has agreed to the terms. Before long, the bastard king will be dead and you will be reunited with Sansa.” This time, she was the one who smiled but Robb seemed lost in thought.

 

“What makes you think he isn’t playing us?” Robb couldn’t help but ask, even though he was afraid to see her smile disappear again. It was a rare sight recently and one he cherished all the more deeply.

 

Instead, her smile was replaced with a knowing smirk and she took the brush from his hand before shifting on the stool so she was facing him, even if even she had to look up. “From what I’ve heard of him, it seems he and I share the same school of thought. If anyone can fool him, it’s me,” she said confidently, her smile genuine again.

 

“And what do you want to do with him once he shows up?” Robb inquired, humoring her. He hadn’t been happy that she had gone behind his back, sending the letter without asking him first but she had appeared so proud of her idea, he hadn’t found it in himself to argue with her. Besides, it was worth a try, maybe.

 

Narcissa’s brows furrowed at his question, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Kill him, of course. Perhaps Sansa will want to do the honors, herself,” she chuckled merrily, standing up as she heard a knock on the door and a couple of servants came in with their supper.

 

Robb stood still for a moment, his heart chattering at her words. When had his wife become so comfortable with the idea of killing? He remembered her reaction when he Karstark executed, how distressed she had been then. And yet, now Brynden told him how she asked him to execute Walder Frey barely a few hours after the massacre had ended, how she didn’t even flinch when blood splashed her face. Soldiers had told him how, in the beginning, she would start her days by talking a walk through the courtyard, taking in the ‘wonderful’ view of traitors’ heads on spikes. Once, Robb asked to have his squire brought up, hoping it would feel less awkward to have Olyvar help him get dressed than a complete stranger but he was informed Narcissa had had him executed as well.

 

“Come on, we should eat before it gets cold,” she urged him to the table, wrapping her arm around him.

 

They ate in relative silence. Narcissa had stopped eating much now that she wasn’t allowed to even have a glass of wine with her meals. Yet somehow, they had managed to find her berries and grapes. They weren’t nearly as tasty as those from Riverrun, but she did keep snacking on them throughout her day.

 

“There was something I wanted to tell you before but it slipped my mind.” Robb said after he took the last bite of his meal and washed it down with water. He had stopped the wine and ale too, out of sympathy for her. It was their child after all, he ought to share the burden where he could.

 

“Go on, then,” she encouraged him as they looked at each other.

 

He couldn’t help but to notice how much her face had changed in the past month. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and he knew she wasn’t sleeping well. He had tried talking to her about it, but whenever he turned to face her in their bed at night, knowing by the shallowness of her breaths that she was still awake, she would pretend to be asleep and he didn’t have the heart to tell her he could see through her lie. The eyes themselves too, were different – usually so full of mischief, it now seemed there was no spirit left in them. But what had struck him first were the hollowed cheeks. Robb could remember how Catelyn’s face would become rounder when she had been with child. It wasn’t just the stomach which swelled but the whole body would look more plump. Looking at his wife, he noticed Narcissa had never looked skinnier and the round belly seemed so out of place compared to her small frame.

 

“Starting tomorrow, I will be taking on my duties again.”

 

“Oh.” The smallest of sounds escaped her lips as she stared in surprise, and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “You know you can’t both rule and drink milk of the poppy, right? It messes with your head,” she attempted a joke but there was no amusement in her voice. In truth, his words had just frightened her. What would she do with the extra free time?

 

“I haven’t had any in the past couple of days. I don’t I need it anymore,” Robb informed, attempting a smile but she was blankly staring at the wall behind him.

 

So, this was it, she concluded almost angrily, forcing her eyes wide open to keep herself from crying. It was now truly behind them as if it had never happened. Even the physical pain was gone. What would it become now? Some well-healed scars and a vague memory of it? Something you thought about once a year on its anniversary and which slipped your mind on all other days? Maybe for him that was already the case but Narcissa could still taste the tears on her tongue and feel his blood on her hands at night. If she closed her eyes and concentrated enough, she could even feel Black Walder stabbing her again.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked, leaning forward, concern now written across his face.

 

She was about to apologize and say she had just gotten lost in her thoughts when she felt something funny in her belly and instinctively brought her hand to it, resting it over the spot when she felt it again.

 

“Are you in pain?” Robb asked once more, now right next to her, crouching over his wife. “Do you want me to call the healers?” He insisted, slowly feeling panic taking over him when she silently grabbed his hand and placed in on her belly where hers had been moments before and then he felt it too.

 

“Is it-?” Robb stuttered, not removing his hand as he looked down at her in awe. “Is that the baby?”

 

Narcissa nodded energetically, resting her hand next to his in the hopes it would happen again. “It’s the first time he has kicked me,” she admitted in an excited whisper before abruptly standing up and heading to the mirror, pulling up her skirts over her waist. In the blink of an eye, the lump appeared and vanished again. “Did you see that?” Narcissa laughed with delight, spinning on herself to show him her naked belly.

 

Yes, Robb had seen it. He had heard it too; her laugh – his favorite sound in the whole world. He was certain he could recognize it among a million others. It was short and sudden, elegant without being high-pitched and its mere happening made him smile. “I love you, Narcissa,” he said truthfully, eyeing her with amusement.

 

“I love you too,” she smiled before sauntering back to him with such force, she pushed him against the table. And then she took Robb by surprise, kissing him like they hadn’t since the _thing_ – not just a quick peck on the lips but a real, passionate kiss and he immediately responded to it, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer to him.

 

Narcissa felt euphoric. After being miserable for the past few weeks, this small moment of joy was so intense, she felt like she was almost drowning in it. Suddenly, there was so much happiness she didn’t know what to do much with it. She felt like screaming, and dancing, and running, and singing all at once. Instead, she glided her hands inside his shirt, running her fingers over his skin, pretending the scars weren’t there. The three of them were alright, maybe he was right and that was all that mattered.

 

Emboldened by the sudden emotion, Narcissa slid her hand inside his loosely laced breeches only to find his body was already starting to respond. She began stroking him slowly, not breaking off their kiss as the movements of his tongue became less coordinated. And then, without a warning, he stopped her, pulling his lips away from hers and instead leaning his forehead against her own. “What are you doing,” he breathed out, shutting his eyes tightly and willing his arousal to go down.

 

Narcissa felt cold all of sudden, his rejection hitting her like ice and effectively putting a sharp end her sudden euphoria. “I saw you pleasuring yourself the other day and I thought, I thought-”, she whispered with quivering lips, stumbling over her words. “I thought you’d want me to-”

 

“Gods, Narcissa, of course I want you,” Robb muttered, clasping her hands in his and bringing them to his lips so he could kiss the delicate knuckles. “I always want you but you know what the healers said about that.” He hadn’t touched her in over a month because of the partially detached placenta and it was that much harder to control himself when she started touching him out of nowhere.

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” she sniffed, looking away to avoid him seeing her like that. “I was being stupid, I’m sorry.”

 

Noticing she was about to walk away, Robb wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, her back against his chest, marveling once again about how perfectly they just fit together. “Don’t say that. You’re not stupid, never, Narcissa,” he murmured softly, resting his chin on the top of her head. “We cannot do that, but there are other ways I can pleasure you, can help you take the edge off,” he whispered huskily in her ear.

 

Robb hadn’t been quite sure how she would respond to that, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to forcefully push him off her. “Take the edge off what, Robb?” Narcissa hissed angrily, reaching for a wine goblet on the table which wasn’t there.

 

“Nothing,” he said quickly, frowning. “I just thought you would enjoy it if I…” Robb didn’t know how to finish that, not when she suddenly looked as if she wanted to rip someone – him – apart.

 

“Take the edge off what?” Narcissa repeated, this time drawling out each syllable as she dug her fingers into the wooden bed posts. Perhaps she was being ridiculous but she wanted him to say the words. Was this perhaps the reason he was coping so well; that he was still so much in denial, he still hadn’t realized what they had lost?

 

Robb tried approaching her but she backed up until her back was flush against the wall. He tried to decipher her expression but there were too many contradictory emotions, she looked angry, scared and desperate all at once. He raised his hands in defeat, slowly backing off.

 

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, taking over my duties and everything on top of the pregnancy. You haven’t been sleeping well either,” he said calmly, afraid that a change in tone might infuriate her or bring her to tears, he wasn’t sure which option was more likely. “I’ve talked with Frederico, he could give you something to help you feel better, maybe sleep more soundly,” Robb offered tentatively, gauging her reaction but it seemed all the emotions disappeared off her face at once and it was just blank.

 

“Medication is for sick people. I am not sick. Ergo, I do not need medication,” Narcissa spoke monotonously, staring down at her feet. “I am getting better.”

 

“I am not saying that you’re sick, Narcissa. Just that maybe it could help,” Robb pleaded but she slowly shook her head, still not looking at him.

 

“You cannot change the facts, Robb,” she said before taking a deep breath. “Medication is for sick people, no matter you say. It’s a fact, facts cannot be changed therefore there is no point in debating over them.” And then her voice weakened to nothing but a whisper as she started mumbling unintelligibly to herself. “What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there’s no point in dwelling on it.” She repeated it again, trying to convince herself of it as she walked past him to the door.

 

She heard his footsteps behind her, following her to the door despite the limp. “I am going out for fresh air, please do not follow me,” she whispered before turning the handle and exiting into the corridor, repeating her new mantra.

 

_What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there’s no point in dwelling on it. What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there’s no point in dwelling on it. What has happened is in the past. The past cannot be changed. Ergo, there’s no point in dwelling on it._

 

Everyone noticed it, but no one spoke of it. Not after Lorenzo had come to dinner with the shape of a hand imprinted on his cheek. That was something the highborn learnt early – when to speak and when to keep their mouth shut.

 

Narcissa herself perhaps realized it too when she had her hair cut again so it didn’t go past her shoulders and was left to stare at her own eyes for ages while the maid worked with the scissors behind her. Or maybe she saw it in the faces of the people around her. But if she did, she took no notice of it.

 

Robb was the one who saw it first, but he was also the first one to threaten anyone who dared comment on it. After everything they had gone through – she had gone through – he wouldn’t tolerate anyone reproaching her. Not even him, not even when he watched her silently combing her short hair in the mirror the following evening, and the others which followed, and saw it himself.

 

-/-/-/-

 

Narcissa watched as Arya trained with Brynden as she made her way down the stairs into the courtyard. It wasn’t a fair fight by any standards: He was more than twice her size, more than twice her age and more than twice as experienced. But life wasn’t fair and the sooner you realized it, the stronger you became. Narcissa couldn’t help thinking she had been a slow learner, maybe her childhood had been too kind.

 

Arya struggled to defend herself from her uncle’s attacks, mostly unsuccessfully. The girl’s skin was no doubt as colorful as a rainbow beneath the clothes. The Blackfish had her disarmed in no time with a chuckle as Arya tried to free herself from his grasp. Narcissa wondered why the girl didn’t simply grab the flowerpot next to her and smash it on his head, but perhaps that wasn’t how sword fights worked and it wasn’t her place to ask.

 

“The council is waiting for you, Lord Tully.” Narcissa finally spoke, catching their attention as the Blackfish set his niece free.

 

He grunted but followed her inside the keep without complaints. Rare were those nowadays who dared complain. They were lucky enough to be alive after all, at least that was what everyone said. Narcissa wasn’t all that sure about that, but she was a highborn and she knew when to speak and when to keep her mouth shut.

 

She slowly opened the double doors, revealing the new council room. “My ladies, my lords,” she said, announcing her presence without looking at any of their faces.

 

Brynden followed her in and took the first empty seat. Narcissa circled the table before taking a seat next to Robb at the head of it. Despite the cane balanced against his chair, he still made a move to help her sit down but she refused, as she always did. Others had offered too, in the past, but she always refused and eventually they stopped offering. It was getting more difficult to sit down and stand up on her own now, but hell would freeze over before she admitted it. Just like hell would freeze over before Robb admitted the pain which shot through his leg every day for the past months when he forced himself to move despite the injury.

 

Robb officially declared the council in session and the discussions immediately started. Narcissa did her best to listen to everyone’s opinion, but most of the time, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Dacey Mormont, who had taken over Maege’s place, was thirsty for revenge. So, was Lorenzo. Neither of them cared how, they just wanted the Lannisters to pay the price. Maybe they would make a good couple, Narcissa snorted, before realizing how terrible their children would turn out to be.

 

Obara and Nymeria wanted a real battle. The longer Narcissa stared at girls, the more she cursed their father for sending them in his stead a month ago but he was to attend Joffrey Baratheon’s wedding. The girls  were bickering children even though they were adults, strictly speaking, and Narcissa wondered how Oberyn could trust them enough to represent his interests.

 

Brynden and Robb were more into strategy. Thinking of the best way to attack. It was when they spoke that Narcissa actually made an effort to listen, but most of the time it was only gibberish to her ears and she couldn’t make sense of it. She couldn’t make sense of many things these days, her brain no longer working the way it used to.

 

“And what do you think, sister?” Lorenzo asked when she had all but counted every ridge on the wooden table.

 

It took her great effort to raise her head to look at him even though it was a small movement. He was looking at expectantly, just like the others, and Narcissa sighed in annoyance. She would have taken a large sip of wine if she were allowed to, but it seemed that somehow, the Lannisters had managed to take that away from her as well.

 

“Lord Baelish is most likely having Joffrey Baratheon poisoned at his own wedding as we speak,” Narcissa said for what felt like the umpteenth time. “As for the others, I don’t care how, I just want them dead.”

 

Internally, she was smirking but it didn’t show on her face. She had taken it upon herself to have Walder Frey executed in the way she found most fitting and yet it hadn’t brought her any pleasure, no satisfaction. For all she cared, Tywin could choke on a grape and Cersei fall down the stairs. As long as they died.

 

“Just because you can’t find any pleasure in anything anymore, doesn’t mean we should be deprived of our revenge,” Obara shouted, hitting her fist on the table. Ah yes, Narcissa had almost forgotten, the girl’s aunt had been killed on Lannister orders ages ago.

 

“I will not tolerate you speaking to my wife like this again. You have been warned, Lady Sand,” Robb groaned loudly next to her, drawing everyone to the backs of their chairs.

 

“No, please, your Grace,” Narcissa objected sweetly, too sweetly as she eyed the Dornish woman. “If Lady Sand has any complaints about me, I’d be most delighted to hear them.”

 

She felt Robb’s stare on her as she spoke. He was frowning, he always frowned when he looked at her after that night. Narcissa had told him numerous times not to worry about her, but he always did and the frown never left.

 

“Gladly,” Obara retorted and Narcissa automatically reached for a glass of wine that didn’t exist. Maybe her brain wasn’t as efficient because of the lack of wine, who knows? She let her hand fall on the table before tilting her head to listen to Obara’s complaints. “You sit at this table, claiming you want the Lannisters dead but really you are no better than them!”

 

“Really, Lady Sand?” Narcissa asked with a smirk. It was the most emotion she had felt in weeks. “No better, are you truly sure of that?”

 

“You had every last Frey executed, innocent little girls and little boys included. Servants too. You sit at this table claiming you want Cersei Lannister dead but you really are no better than her when she had her husband’s bastards murdered!”

 

Ah, there it was, Narcissa deadpanned. Someone had finally said it. It didn’t surprise her that it had come from Obara. Lorenzo hadn’t gone that far, she had struck his cheek before he could finish but he had insinuated it all the same. “Treating servants like that is not fitting of a Medici, nor of a Stark I believe,” were part of his exact words. And the rest were too polite to say anything, or they might perhaps just be cutting her some slack.

 

Next to her, Robb once again made a move to stand up and put the Dornish bastard back in her place but she grabbed his hand on the table, and he froze under her touch. They hadn’t touched in weeks.

 

“I ask you this once again; do you really think I’m no better than Cersei Lannister?” Narcissa repeated, cocking her head, enjoying the confusion on Obara’s face, on everyone’s face around the table for that matter. She exhaled slowly with disappointment when no one dared answer her question. Were they all wary of her now?

 

“Cersei let Gendry Waters slip through her fingers when she had the bastards executed. I have every last Frey accounted for. You’ll have to admit that makes a little better than her, doesn’t it?”

 

Narcissa watched with mild excitement as Obara stood up in a blur and jumped on the table, ready to attack her like the Sand Snake she was. Narcissa didn’t move in her chair, if anything she leaned back and closed her eyes, anticipating the blow that would put her out of her misery. At least, like this, it wouldn’t be her fault. But it never came and Narcissa opened her eyes to watch Obara being dragged out of the room by a couple of guards.

 

“This council session is officially over.” Robb stated with a sharp nod and people started filling out. Narcissa struggled to get back on her feet, tightly gripping the armrests to pull herself up but Robb’s hand on her forearms stopped her movements and all but burnt her skin through the fabric. She had been aware of the coldness of her limbs recently but not of the extent of it, until now.

 

They stayed like that for what felt like ages but was in reality nothing more than minutes. Narcissa closed her eyes, sighing and Robb rubbed his temples. She was already bracing herself for what was to come.

 

“I need to know that you’re alright, Narcissa,” he sighed, sliding his hand down her arm to her own hand. She tried pulling away but he had already entwined their fingers. “I can get the healers to give you something to help you sleep at night and to make you more serene during the day,” he offered kindly but she used the momentary distraction to free herself from his grasp and stand up.

 

Pain shot through her swollen stomach as soon as she was back on her feet and she might have regretted her decision to stand up had she not been so stubborn. The pain occurred whenever she failed to follow the healers’ recommendation of no brusque movements. Noticing her grimace, Robb immediately rushed forward to help in any way he could but she swatted his hands away and tried to ignore the hurt on his face.

 

“I refuse to be medicated and sedated,” Narcissa groaned, grabbing tightly at the table’s edge until the pain passed. “I’ve told you that already.”

 

“You also told me you’d get better and it’s been almost six weeks, Narcissa.” Robb groaned, slowly losing his patience and she couldn’t really blame him for that. She had truly been like this for months now. Robb inhaled and exhaled slowly. “That night, when I shared the healers’ findings with you, I expected you’d be ecstatic.”

 

Narcissa could remember that night only too well, when she stumbled into the bedroom drunk after locking herself up in Walder’s office for hours, writing the first of many letters to Petyr Baelish. She had noticed his smile as soon as she entered the room and it didn’t even falter when he saw how drunk she was.

 

_“You were carrying twins,” he explained. “The healers are confident the blow didn’t affect the other babe beyond slightly detaching the placenta.” Robb was still smiling but she didn’t find it in herself to match his joy. “We’re going to have a baby, Cissa.”_

“How could I be ecstatic, Robb?” She blurted out without intending to. “How?!” Narcissa looked away from him, she didn’t want him to see her tears. “You told me we were still going to be parents, but all I could hear was how I had lost one of our babies! You told me we were going to have a baby, but all I could hear was how I was carrying a corpse next to that baby!”

 

She wasn’t quite sure when her shouts had turned into cries, and yet, she was certain that it was in that exact moment that she was enveloped in his arms, her face against his chest. He must have been in pain, his thigh still hadn’t healed properly but he never complained as she cried into his doublet.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” Robb murmured, sliding his fingers through her hair and kissing the crown of head. He couldn’t believe he had spent months without really knowing what was going on with his wife.

 

To him, finding out that she was still pregnant was beyond anything he could have even hoped for. Given the circumstances, he would have been happy enough is there was a possibility she could get pregnant again in the future. He had never thought about it the way she had.

 

“Why would I?” She sniffed. “You had lost your mother and your men, and yet, you were smiling. I didn’t want to ruin whatever shred of happiness with my inability to count my blessings.”

 

“My happiness depends on your happiness, Narcissa.” He stated firmly. She really hoped that wasn’t true, she didn’t want him to be a miserable as her. He deserved to be happy. If anyone deserved it, it was him.

 

She wanted to tell him that when suddenly, there was a knock on the closed door and she pulled away from him to wipe away her tears before telling the intruder to come in.

 

“A ship docked in the port of Seagard,” the soldier informed them and Narcissa immediately started panicking. How could they have gone unnoticed? “A red priestess and man calling himself the ‘Onion Knight’ want to discuss terms of peace in Stannis Baratheon’s name.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the chapter that took so long to write. I hope you aren’t disappointed!
> 
> I have read through all your input and will most certainly keep your suggestions in mind when writing out this story! Thank you for your support :)
> 
> Long, boring A/N haha: No matter how strong Narcissa is, I believe anyone would struggle in her position. As someone who wasn’t brought up to be an emotional person, she’s unable to deal with a non-tangible loss that no one seems to understand, not even Robb who managed to focus on the positive aspect of things. At the Red Wedding, when he lost conscience, he really believed that everything was over so the mere fact that they survived exceeds what he could have hoped for and he got even more than that – Arya is back, Grey Wind is alive and they’re still having a baby.
> 
> So, this is Narcissa trying to pull herself through the different stages of grief in the only way she knows how; by forcing her feelings to fit into what she considers a rational mindset.
> 
> Anyway… Next chapter we will have Ser Davos and Melisandre come into play, and an attempt at tripartite negotiations.
> 
> PS: I don't know why AO3 is suddenly spacing out my paragraphs so much. Sorry!


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